


Horizons

by Tenshikyo



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, DMC4 Dante is bae, Demisexuality, Devil May Cry 4 Dante, Don't we all though, Emotional Baggage, F/M, Lemon, Main Character Has Issues, Main character is an asshole, Mystery, OCD, Origin Story, Original Characters - Freeform, Original Story - Freeform, Romance, Sexual Tension, Sherlock-Watson dynamic, So does Dante, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 03:44:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 31
Words: 90,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4506486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tenshikyo/pseuds/Tenshikyo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While investigating mysterious cases of people going missing and mangled bodies showing up days later, you unintentionally get sucked into the world of demons and devils. Can you protect yourself in this new, dangerous side of the universe, or are you going to need a certain Devil Hunter to save the damsel in distress in you? </p><p>Dante x Reader</p><p>(Rape-warning only for attempted rape in a later chapter, just in case)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lonesong

**Author's Note:**

> Songs will be (mostly) by Feint.

Snow was floating about, dusting everything with its innocent whiteness. Winter had barely even arrived and the tiny snowflakes were already eager to make an appearance.

Capturing a cigarette between your lips, you held your hand over an invisible lighter as if to stop the wind from blowing the flame out as you seemingly lit the stick. Pretending to inhale the smoke, you looked down to watch the snow land on the pile of flesh lying on the ground, slowly becoming red as it did.

You let out a sigh as though you were blowing the smoke out again and squatted down next to the body, your eyes scanning what was left of what used to be a beautiful woman. Remaining patches of blonde hair, mascara mixed with blood and what looked like a semi-devoured hand clutching a pink phone might have been enough to send any normal person running for a trash can, but not you.

Your partner and one of the few people willing to put up with your quirks, however, stood a few steps back. He was pinching his nose and looked away while trying his best not to gag.

“James, what do you think?” you asked him without looking away from the corpse. Chunks of meat were missing, as if an animal had eaten from it, but there were no animals in the city that had teeth nearly as big as this woman’s torso.

“I think that you’re an insane person for taking such an interest in a case like this,” the young boy replied with a nasal voice.

“But you already know that, don’t you?” you retorted as you pushed the remains of the jacket aside with a gloved hand, finding it gripping how there was more clothing than body left. As if something had knocked her out before eating her, careful to take in as little cloth as possible. Like picking olives from a pizza because they tasted horrible. 

You watched as a group of police agents appeared at the scene, one of them joining James to ask him some questions while the other came to take photos of the corpse. He didn’t talk to you so you took the liberty of running the case through your mind, trying to get a clearer picture of what was going on.

This was already the fourth victim within a time span of thirty-four days. There was no obvious connection between them, except for the fact that they were all the kind of people who liked to hang out when it was dark outside, and the pattern of their deaths.

First they’d go missing for a few days; that was why the police were being much more careful with reports of people disappearing. The first thing they’d ask was whether or not the person in question had been out during the night, if no, then they’d pass it along to someone lower on the food chain, if yes then they’d add it to the possible victims of this killer.

It never took more than five days until the bodies would be found again, looking as if someone had eaten them. So far, you didn’t have any clues as to who or what was doing it, but you almost found yourself wondering whether this was the work of something, or someone, inhuman.

The officer who had joined you with the body to take pictures threw a glance at you that told you that he deemed your ability to remain longer than should be possible with this stinking and rotting corpse rather unsettling. You were used to the curious gazes of bystanders and didn't care for them, though. You merely waited for them to leave you be so you could do your damn job and that was exactly what you did in this moment, making it as obvious as possible that you were waiting impatiently for the cop to leave you alone with the cadaver. 

When he finally did return to his partner and James, who were watching you doing your thing once again now that the only living thing inside your personal space bubble was you yourself, you continued your investigation. 

The pockets of the jacket were empty. What caught your attention most was that she didn't have a purse or wallet on her, no ways of identification, no money. This woman would remain unnamed, a Jane Doe, until they managed to give her back her proper name, of which chances were pretty slim if she hadn't been signed up as missing before the showing up of her body. 

For you, however, the missing wallet in its whole was more interesting than the fact that you didn't know Jane's real name. Nobody went out anymore without a credit card or cash, and an ID. Seeing as how all her pockets were empty, that meant that the murderer had taken them; but why, if it seemed to be some monstrous animal that had found Jane to be a delicious meal? It was a sign of robbery, or just of the ability to think about one's acts, which was something that an animal couldn't do. 

Or maybe it had just swallowed it by accident when eating at the rest of Jane's body.

No - it had avoided the clothes at all costs. To gain access to the wallet, it would have had to dig through them without destroying them.

Or she had used a handbag in which she kept her belongings, which she had dropped when she had gotten attacked.

But then why the phone in her hand? 

Probably talking to a friend. 

But after prying it from her limp grip and scrolling through its data, you found that she hadn't called anyone since two weeks ago - which would have been too long for the suspected killer's modus operandi. The last text, too, dated from around the same time. Then what had she been doing on her phone? 

She had _wanted_ to call someone. Who, then? And why exactly at the time of attack? Coincidence, or had she felt it coming? 

You continued rummaging through Jane's clothes, patting around for any pockets you might have missed. Before calling it a disappointing day, you lifted her shirt as well, and then checked her bra. Indeed, as you had almost expected, there was piece of paper crumbled inside, squashed against her still, palish blue breast. 

It seemed as though she had shoved it in there hastily and when you unfolded it, you weren't even surprised by what was written on it. It used to be some sort of business card, with a company name, the company's address and phone number printed on it. This one seemed rather sloppily-made, though, and you mentally shook your head at the cheapness of it.

Mentally because you were already too absorbed in reenacting the crime inside your mind. An alley, just like the one you were sitting in, appeared before you, though it was darker. Night, of course. 

Jane happened to be walking through it, either returning home or on her way to a wild night, when she heard a noise from somewhere behind her. She turned around, but she couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. Still, with those kidnappings and murders she had heard about in the news at the back of her head, she pulled her phone out of her pants or her handbag, as well as the business card. She started typing the number into her cell, but it was already too late - she got pounced by the attacker. Somehow she still managed to hide the card into her bra, almost as though she hadn't wanted the murderer to find it. Well, he hadn't, and thanks to that nifty little trick you finally had a lead to follow. 

Still - why had Jane wanted to call _Devil May Cry_ and what did this company have to do with the case?

It was time to pay someone a visit.


	2. Against the Grain

Standing in front of this building, you frowned at the business card that you were holding in your palm. The address was right, but then why did it look like a bar instead of the office of a company? Well, the card had looked rather cheap, too. It wouldn't surprise you if this all happened to be a ruse for the killer to hide behind if need be. Not that you were going to make any conclusions without evidence.

James stood next to you, rocking back and forth on his feet, obviously nervous. 

"Did you really have to come all the way out here to question this person?" he asked for the umpteenth time that day as he looked over his shoulder just in case someone might be lurking about, ready to empty his pockets or even kill him without him ever noticing. 

"Yes," was the only response you gave him. You always preferred a face-to-face interrogation, people finding it much easier to lie their way out of things when you couldn't see their stupid heads. How you hate simple-minded people, petty enough to sink to the level of crime instead of earning their lives the legal way. 

Without waiting to listen to his whining again, you checked the business card one last time before crossing the street, first looking left and then right even though you hadn't heard any cars coming, to get to the building. After avoiding the cracks on the pavement, you climbed up the short stair case.

_One._

_Two._

_Three._

You turned and re-counted the amount of steps, making sure you had gotten the correct amount, before walking over to the front door. All the while, James, who had already arrived at the front door, waited patiently for you. He knew that if he interrupted you doing "your thing", as he liked to call it, you would have to start all over again. 

"Come in!" was called from the other side of the door before you had even managed to raise your hand and knock. You shared a glance with James, who merely shrugged and gestured for you to do "your thing" again.

After patting all the pockets you had on you - two front pockets, two back pockets, two coat pockets - you opened the door and stepped inside, immediately beginning to eye your surroundings as you did so. 

It looked absolutely horrible. Dirty, furnished by an amateur, empty yet disorganised, and sombre... You couldn't believe a business like this managed to not go bankrupt. At least that explained the cheap-looking card. Pizza boxes were scattered everywhere, the desk standing at the back hurt your eyes with its littered top, the carpet wasn't put down properly with edges tucked beneath itself and - worst of all - the... paintings or whatever they were hanging on the wall - slanting. 

_Slanting._

And, possibly even worse, the tiles were designed just so that your foot didn't fit into one of the decoration circles. 

How could anybody live, or just work, in a place like this?

"Ya done examining the goods?" the apparent owner of this horror house whom you hadn't noticed yet asked you, tilting his head to the side as he, in turn, examined you, his eyes filled with amusement as he did so. He sat at his desk, his feet resting on top of it with his arms behind his head.

The _dirty_ desk. 

Your fingers started itching at the sight of all this chaos and James couldn't help but let out a groan. The place they had to visit just had to look like this, didn't it? The two of you were never going to get out of here anytime soon. 

Shaking your head and trying to concentrate on the case again, you took a few large strides towards this white-haired man and his desk - his _obnoxious_ desk - while fingering the business card, which you then slammed down on the stained surface when you arrived there. 

The owner of this abomination of a building picked it up gingerly, almost sad at the way you had treated it, and looked it over. "Yes, what's with it? You want a new one? This one looks awfully... used. Unfortunately for you, missy, I ran out just this morning so you'd-" 

He stopped talking when you practically shoved a photograph into his face. His eyes wandered over the surface in confusion, wondering what he was supposed to do with this, when suddenly his face scrunched up as realisation dawned upon him. "What the hell is _that_?"

"That, mister, would be a victim of a killer we are desperately trying to capture. And she, _unfortunately for you_ , had your business card on her body when we found her. Care to explain this?" you replied in a heartbeat as your hands busied themselves with the magazines and such that were scattered across _the_ desk.

The white-haired man pulled his feet down and put them back on the ground, all the while staring at you in disbelief. Yet at the same time you managed to find a hint of humour in his eyes. Did he think this was a joke? "Whoa whoa whoa there, babe! Are you saying you're suspecting me of having done this?!" 

"Please don't refer to me as 'babe'. And all I'm saying is that we're desperate and this has already been the fourth murder and we need something, _anything_ , that can help us move forward," you responded and with a feeling of relief you finished structuring the magazines and books into neat stacks on the desk.

"May I first ask on exactly which body part she had my card?" he asked as he leaned forward again, this time on his elbows with his head in his hands. 

You shot him a dangerous glare, to which he reacted by holding his hands in the air. "May a man not ask such a question around here?"

"It's none of your business where we found it, just answer the damn question," you growled, your irritation growing with every additional second you spent in this man's presence. 

"No answer is also an answer, isn't it?" he retorted with a wide grin. "And I don't remember even being asked a question in the first place. I say you answer my question and I'll reply to your... _claim_."

You heaved a sigh, running a hand through your hair. You already deeply regretted not taking up James's offer of just calling him. Though you doubted that would have helped you, to be honest. 

"She had hidden it in her bra. Now tell me, do or do you not admit to being the perpetrator?" You frowned as the man who was obviously a pervert punched the air as some kind of celebration. 

"Wait. You keep referring to this case as a murder, but this picture at least seems to be show a victim of some kind of animal," the suspect retorted rather sudden.

Your hands fell still and you hesitated for a moment before answering. You couldn't pull back now, claiming it to be a hunch, but you weren't quite sure that you should tell this to a suspect. Still, when you thought about it, what could actually happen if you were to explain it to him? If he were to kill you now, your boss and colleagues would know what happened, and you'd like to see him try, too. You had to force your hand to not rest on top of your holstered gun at the thought of that. Somehow, his blue eyes landed on your hand, anyway, and his lips formed another one of those annoying grins. 

A glance towards James, who had been silent this whole time, told you that he thought the same, and so you began to lay out your theory.

"It all seems too calm and collected to be done by some beast. Sure, I got put on the case when it was still considered to be a 'raccoon problem', but the only thing that actually points to animals is the fact that the corpses are half-eaten. But clothes are almost always fully intact, wallets disappear and the bodies show up again days later. Why not eat the clothes as well? Why not stash the victim for later meals? But then again, the bite marks are obviously not human, so I don't know what to think, to tell you the truth."

"Yes, you do," he pushed, the grin turning into a small, friendly smile as his eyes locked with yours. For a moment there, he seemed much wiser than you, though you actually doubted that to be possible.

You hesitated once more, but this time because of James. He already believed you were crazy enough, but you feared that this might turn out to be the last drop.

"It's not human... but it's not animal either. Maybe, there's something else..." you mumbled. This had sounded much better in your mind. Now that you had said it out loud, you really did seem like a madman.

A dark cloud passed the stranger's face, which confused you. Hadn't he been the one pushing you for an answer? What else had he expected, then?

His words made you stop thinking for a moment. "Please get off this case."

You scowled at him, thinking he was joking around with you and almost spat out, "Fuck you."

But his face was serious and there were no more fun and games visible in his expression. His eyes flickered over to James, who took a step back as the tension between the two of you began to build up, before he pressed his hands on top of his desk. He leaned forward, and with his nose almost touching yours, you tried your best not to back down.

"I get it. This case is important for you, for your reputation or your ability to sleep at night-" you interrupted his whispering with a chuckle before letting him continue; your solving a case wasn't going to magically cure your insomnia or anything, "-or whatever, but there are things about the world that you don't know. Aren't supposed to know, too. So when I tell you to get off this case, I'm not doing it as this so-called culprit of yours, but as a friendly stranger to another, to protect you, _missy_. This won't end well for you if you decide to continue meddling with things that aren't supposed to be part of your life." 

You stared into the icy blue eyes of this _friendly stranger_ , your resolution wavering for a split second. Suddenly, you weren't so sure about what you were supposed to do. But you weren't about to give up just because some weirdo told you to do so. Not that you were going to tell said weirdo that, for he probably wouldn't let you go if you did.

Straightening your back, you called out to James without looking away from this man, whose name you still didn't know. "James, we're leaving. Go get the car ready, please."

"Thank you for your advice..." you then started, a professional smile making its way to your face as you held your hand out for him. 

"Dante. And what might your lovely name be?" he asked you, his hand grasping yours in a firm handshake. He threw in a wink for good measure, the tension from before having disappeared completely in such a small amount of time, but you ignored it.

You responded by giving him your name, before adding, "Thank you for the advice, Dante. I will consider it," despite the fact that you weren't even planning on thinking his words over. 

As though Dante expected this, he handed you the crumpled business card back. "Here. I have a feeling you'll be needing this more than I do."


	3. Your Own Way

A week later found you sitting at your desk, face in your hands, trying your best to control your breathing. A panic attack was the last thing you needed right now. You shouldn't let your guilt control your mind, your mind had to control the guilt and use it to fuel your motivation instead.

A week had passed by, yet the only thing you had gained was another body. A John this time.

 _"The next one can very well be one of your relatives,"_ you scolded yourself, handily forgetting that you didn't even have any relatives left. The few people who you did know and managed to put up with you, you called to check up on every few hours. The fact that their behavioural patterns didn't match with those of the victims didn't matter at all.

The only time you could forget all the worry and guilt was when you allowed yourself to take another look at what you had found until now.

Staring down at the pictures of bodies and other evidence lined along the edge of your desk, you went over your theory and the facts that pointed towards its confirmation once more. The newest victim had provided you with some interesting new food for thought.

The killer couldn't be an animal; the clothes were enough proof for that, and then there was the illogical pattern of bodies disappearing and reappearing. But the fact that those bodies were half-eaten meant it couldn't possibly be done by a human being. A human and an animal working together, perhaps? But what animal could take such huge bites out of a fully grown body?

And then there was the zipper. You had found it in John's pocket, and after a bit of searching, you had found out that it had belonged to some model of a man's wallet. It had managed to get stuck on a thread in John's pocket that had held onto the zipper for dear life, resulting in the zipper actually being torn off its wallet by sheer force.

 _That_ was something an animal wouldn't think of doing and what a human just couldn't do. You had even tried to replicate the result with the exact same wallet and trousers a few times already, to no avail. 

This finding had sealed the deal for you. No matter how crazy it might sound, there _had_ to be something else.

_"Please get off this case."_

Why had Dante almost begged you to do so? And then his speech about wanting to protect you. Had he known about this? Did that mean there actually was something else, and he knew what it was?

Shaking these thoughts out of your head, you didn't want to make any conclusions without facts. You wouldn't forgive unprofessional behaviour from anyone, not you or anybody else. 

James popped his head into your office, almost having felt your breakthrough from his own room. "Boss, you found anything new?"

With a disappointed sigh, you fell back into your chair, rubbing your face as you did so.

"Boss, you alright? You look just as horrible as the victims. When was the last time you had a good rest?" James went on, carrying a steaming mug of coffee towards your desk.

But you were no longer listening to his rambling.

_"You look just as horrible as the victims."_

_That's it!_

"That's it!" you repeated out loud.

"What's what?" James asked, confusion written all over his face.

"I'll lure the killer out myself," you announced as you got up from your chair, suddenly full of energy again.

If your announcing that the murderer was neither animal nor human but something entirely different hadn't changed his opinion of your sanity, this surely would. At least, that's what his staring at you seemed to tell you. 

Then, after what seemed like ten minutes of awkward silence, he burst out in laughter. "You're... going to... lure him... out?" 

Your pride having been hurt a little, you crossed your arms over your chest and raised a brow at his mirth. It took his brain even longer than before to process that you, in fact, were not joking, as he had expected. When he did realise it, he asked, "Wait, you're actually serious?"

Without showing any of the irritation at his naivety that you felt on your face, you nodded your head. Then, when he didn't reply, you stated out loud, "Yes, I am."

James merely shook his head in response, rubbing a hand across his forehead. He had learned long ago that when you had come up with a plan, it took hard, scientific evidence to get stop you from acting on it. And in this case, where James doubted there would even be scientific evidence to prove that the killer was "neither human, nor animal" that a normal human being could understand, he knew that there was no way to get this idea out of your head.

"But it's dangerous," he tried meekly, anyway, to which you shrugged. 

"If it gets me closer to cracking this case then I will do whatever it takes! What is more important, my own life or that of the countless victims that have yet to be served as dinner?" you retorted, knowing he wouldn't ever be able to give that answer a morally just answer.

If he were to say the truth, then he would be forsaking other people and putting their lives on the line. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, after all. But if he were to agree with you, then he would be lying, and that wasn't something you would accept either. He ended up saying nothing, just as you had expected, and you went on writing down what you were going to do and why, for official record's purposes. Your boss wouldn't be very happy with you if he found out you went off without notifying anyone.

Checking your watch, you noticed it was slowly nearing the night and so you were going to have to leave now if you wanted to be ready in time. You doubted the killer would suddenly change his... appetite and attack someone dressed like _this_. You were going to have to wear something more appropriate for the occasion, unfortunately.

"Alright, I'll be going now," you announced as you got up. You slung your coat, that you always hung neatly over the back of your chair, over your shoulders and folded the paper you had just written perfectly in the middle. 

"What, now already? Don't you want to wait a few days until you can... refine your plan a bit? You always say not to make hasty conclusions, and I'm guessing this counts as-" 

You silenced James with but a glance, telling him how serious you were. "James, I don't think 'making hasty conclusion' counts when there are innocent lives on the line, and with every additional day I wait with doing something, _anything_ , someone risks being turned into a meal. So please don't try to stop me. I'm not asking you to come with me, I'm only asking you to... well, prepare for the worst case scenario."

"You mean, worst case scenario as in... you dying?" James threw back at you, standing in front of the door with his hands on his hips. You had never seen such an amount anger and fear written on his face before. 

You shrugged at the question, trying to lighten the mood up a bit, for his sake. "Well, actually, I meant worst case scenario as in me ending up in hospital. You know I won't die and leave you to live the rest of your life peacefully, don't you?"

It seemed to work and the corners of his lips started tugging upwards. Despite his fighting it back, the smile couldn't be hidden after it started appearing. 

"Okay, fine!" he yelled, throwing his hands in the air. "But if you even think about dying on me, then I will bring you back to life only to kill you again."

"Doesn't that seem rather counterproductive? You'd want me to stay alive, wouldn't you, so if you actually had the ability to bring-" 

"Please just leave before I change my mind."

"Okay, okay, I'm gone already!" 

And with a quick pat of your pockets, you left the room, leaving James on his own to stare at his feet. Despite his many utterances of you having the capability of being an annoying, weird, mean, crazy bitch-slash-control freak most of the time, he still had become quite attached to you in these past few years. He would never admit it to anybody out there, but if it weren't for you, he probably never would have gotten out of his shell, would probably still be the self-conscious man who felt worthless about everything he did. He didn't want to lose you before being able to say so to your face, but you were completely oblivious of this fact as you made your way out of the building.

On your way outside, you left your report at the front desk, the man behind it accepting it nervously. Nobody around here liked being in your presence for fear of being scrutinised by you.

"There is really no reason for you to start trembling whenever I walk into the room," you stated as you quickly pulled your hand back, not wanting to touch the officer while handing him your note. 

He almost looked relieved, a sigh escaping his lips when you said, "And by the way, you did your tie completely wrong. But it doesn't really matter because the horrible matching of your tie and your shirt completely hides it, so don't worry about it. Maybe you should buy a longer pair of pants next time you go shopping, too."

"Y-yes, sir, eh, ma'am..." 

"Good. Now good night to you," was all you said as you turned and set your course out of the building. 

"Oh, and you... You've got mail, ma'am," the shaken officer yelled after you.

"Just give it to James!" And with a wave of your hand, you dismissed yourself from the office, now obviously a woman on a very important mission.


	4. Atlas

Walking down these snowy streets at night, the clicking and crunching of the high heels you were wearing against the sometimes snowed-in, sometimes concrete pavement - you didn't even bother avoiding the cracks right now - made you more self-conscious than you had ever been. The short skirt and thin tank top that kept crawling up your skin didn't particularly help your case, next to freezing you to death. Still, the sudden nervousness of your plan actually working cast a shadow over your worrying about your appearance.

You kept telling yourself that it would never go as planned. You had never had a lot of luck in life, so why should that change in this moment?

Perhaps because you could also consider yourself _unlucky_ if the 'mission' were to succeed. In the end, you stopped trying to reason with yourself and just walked on. 

By now, you had reached the rather empty downtown of the city and you wondered whether it was so because of the attacks, or whether it had always been like this.

In your hand you held your phone in a death grip, the sweat from your palms making it hard to keep your firm hold on it. Though you weren't sure who exactly you would call in a moment such as an attack by something "neither animal, nor human", the fact that you were connected to the world comforted you greatly. 

Glancing at the screen, you saw that it was past midnight and you began to hope that this whole thing was going to end up being a failure.

Your first, but one you could happily acknowledge if it meant you were still alive to do just that.

But maybe if you hadn't turned that corner into the dark alley to your right, you might have lived to tell the story - no, let's not get ahead of ourselves; you still have much to accomplish.

Anyway, you turned into a suspiciously dark alley, hoping you could at least claim to have searched thoroughly through the streets. Seeing next to nothing, you had to hold a hand against the brick wall next to you for guidance, not caring about chafing your finger tips.

Nope - your bad luck was definitely playing its role right now.

You could almost _feel_ its lecherous stare before your eyes had adjusted themselves enough to actually _see_ the beast responsible for all the terror it was causing.

It was long - so, so long, you would never properly be able to properly describe it to someone who couldn't possibly imagine something like this. It looked almost like a feral beast, maybe a lion or a tiger, except with dark, metallic scales instead of fur covering its body. It still had claws though; large, deadly-looking claws that could slice you in half with a snap of its finger. It also had a tail that looked dangerous in its own right, its surface covered in thorns that were dripping with you didn't want to know what.

Its head was the most unnerving part of its body, however. It had a large mouth, as you had expected, but the top of its face, or head, or whatever it was, was covered with a black cloth.

As if that weren't enough, it actually started to chuckle before breaking out in a fit of actual laughter.

"Well, well, well, look what we have here..." it said, its mouth moving in ways you hadn't deemed possible for something that looked like a lion-tiger-thing. Its voice was one of the weirdest thing you had ever heard, too: deep, raspy, yet completely distorted and inhuman. 

It took a step forward towards you from where it stood, which was at the other side of the alley. You looked over your shoulder and saw that you weren't that far away from the exit, though deep down you doubted you would ever make it in time. One pounce from this _thing_ and you were dead, like a deer trying to escape its hunter but failing miserably. 

Still, you couldn't stop yourself from taking a step back, not turning your back towards the monster just yet. You couldn't do anything more, anyway; your body having gone into complete lock-down as your brain tried to wrap itself around the concept of something that actually _was_ "neither animal, nor human". You yourself hadn't even believed the existence of something like that, but you just hadn't had anything else to go by. Seeing that you had actually been right caused conflicting emotions within you: you were glad that you had figured it out, however you had no fucking idea what you were supposed to do now. 

It sniffed a few times before it let out another laugh. "Hmm... You're not like the others, are you? Not intoxicated, like the others were. More intelligent, too. But then why would someone like you make her way towards a place like this?" 

You were still incapable of replying. It took another step towards you, so you took another step back. Unfortunately, however, the heel of your right shoe got caught between a hidden stone on the ground and you stumbled backwards into the snow, somehow managing to not squeak in surprise. Your hand immediately shot down to hold your skirt down, though this was the worst possible moment to care about up-skirts. It was a monster, for god's sake, you doubted it even had a sexual need. 

"Who... who are you?" you stammered as you tried to scoot farther away from this thing, your hands already going numb as you tried to push yourself away. All you accomplished was damaging your calves and hands, without really making the distance between you two any bigger. 

It let out a bark - highly confusing since it resembled a cat-like creature - of laughter before making a small jump in your direction. "I doubt that knowing who or what I am will do your case any good. However, because I am such a gentleman, I shall answer your question regardlessly. I am Atlas, though now I wonder if you even understand what that means." 

At his last remark, you finally regained a bit of your senses. Unfortunately for you, it had to be exactly the wrong part of you that returned. 

The corners of your lips curled up in a smirk as you ignored the stinging of the small scratches and the cold on your legs. "Actually, though I don't know what exactly Atlas means when it comes to whatever the hell you are, I _do_ know that Atlas was a Greek Titan, brother of Prometheus and forced by Zeus to hold up the sky..." 

'Atlas' growled at your smartassery, his tail whipping around and smashing holes in the walls to its sides, though it remained seemingly unaffected by the impact. If that didn't hurt him, or at least affect him in the slightest manner, then how on earth were you supposed to get out of here? 

"How dare you insult my greatness by comparing me to a nonexistent being such as that...!" it practically spat at you. It continued to glare at you from where it stood, trying to intimidate you from a distance first before closing in. 

You shrugged at his threat and replied, "Technically you were nonexistent to me before I met you as well. And there's nothing wrong with being compared to Greek mythology, as long as you don't go reenacting all the fucked up stories surrounding those guys."

"Well, I guess that if you know Greek mythology, then I am not sure if I should praise you for your intellect, or whether I should condemn you for coming to a place like this at a time like this despite said intelligence," Atlas responded, and you could have sworn that if it had had eyebrows, it would have raised them at you. 

In that moment, Atlas decided that this conversation was dragging on too long and it was hungry. Smart or no, it was going to devour you nonetheless. It took you another step from Atlas in your direction to get your brain completely back on track and before you could curse yourself for challenging this monster, you remembered that you were still holding your phone in your hand. Atlas seemed to notice your shift of attention, leaping the last few steps in one go, practically shoving its humongous face into yours. 

You froze at the sudden movement and tried to crawl backwards, only to find your back hitting something, stopping you from going any farther away. In the meanwhile, Atlas sniffed a few more times and you could feel his breath on your skin. In your disgust, goose bumps appeared all over your body and a shiver ran down your spine. 

But then, all of a sudden, it was Atlas's turn to freeze, its hungry grin turning into something that resembled a gaping mouth. Surprise was written all over its face, if that was even possible, and you frowned at the change in attitude. 

Not waiting much longer, you took this moment to start typing a number into your phone, holding your screen just so that it couldn't see what you were doing. Thanking the gods for your need to mute your phone all the time, you managed to get halfway the only number you could think of entering into the device before Atlas noticed what you were up to.

"Oh no you don't!" it yelled and swiped its paw at you, catching you in the side and slamming you into the wall on the other side of the alley.

You let out a scream of anguish mixed with surprise. The blood pouring from your torso, turning the whiteness beneath you red, proved your point of his claws being able to slice you open in one go - but he hadn't even used those, yet. 

Sliding down the wall and onto a pile of snow on the ground, the trembling floor beneath you ended up being your only way of indicating Atlas's position. It was too dark to really see anything, after all, and your head now also throbbed painfully from the impact. 

"Not so cheeky now, are you?" Atlas chuckled again, not noticing that your fingers were working your phone once more.

A voice in your head screamed that you had to check if you were typing the right number, but there was no way to see your phone screen without drawing unwanted attention to it. It also seemed impossible for you to retrieve the business card from your wallet that you had put in a handbag, which had been part of your disguise. If you could, then you would have been able to grab your gun as well and shoot this bastard's head off. 

So you pushed the voice away and continued typing as slow and unobvious as possible, counting and re-counting the digits inside your mind. As you pressed the call button, Atlas reached your body again, just in time to hear the dial tone and a click as the person on the other side picked up.

"Couldn't wait to hear from me again, could ya? I hope you can forgive me for taking the liberty of finding out your phone number, seeing as it was kinda unfair that you had my number but I didn't get anything in return, don't you think?"

"You bitch...!" Atlas growled, flinging his paw at you again to eliminate your phone, but you managed to shield it with your body just in time.

Instead, its paw practically punched you in the back and you yelped out. 

"Where are you?" the phone spoke from beneath you and in that moment, you were rather glad that the man on the other side of the connection did not know of this fact. He seemed like the kind of guy who would enjoy hearing that, calling strangers 'babe' and all. 

You quickly told him the address, and before the dial tone returned once more, you added, "Please hurry."

Atlas rolled you over onto your back, so that you were staring right up at its ugly face. The apathy on your face took it aback, your empty eyes staring right through its cloth-covered eyes. Your sudden change in attitude was mostly caused by the feeling of weakness that came from too much blood loss, combined with the need to aggravate Atlas even further, seeing as how that had worked in delaying the attack before, and the knowledge that help was on the way.

Now all you could do was hope that he would make it here in time. 

Atlas seemed to be of the same mind, though probably for different reasons. It grinned as it opened its mouth, a black tongue slithering out to lick the single claw it had released. "I guess we'll just have to make the most of the time that we're left with, am I right?"

Without leaving any room for a reply, Atlas slammed its paw down, the claw burying itself in your shoulder. Your eyes went wide and you opened your mouth to scream, but no sound came out - you just lay there, petrified as the pain entered your already bruised and battered body. 

You gasped for breath when the claw left your flesh, more blood flooding out of you as you inhaled as much air as possible now that the pressure had left your breast. Spots were starting to dance in front of your eyes and the world started to spin, but still you managed to focus on Atlas. You tried your best to keep yourself awake by noting all the irregularities in its appearance that would have bothered you tremendously were the situation completely different. The way that the cloth before its eyes didn't run in a straight line along its nose, or that one of its nostrils was a bit bigger than the other. The fact that its front paws were larger, though the muscles in the hind leg looked stronger than those in the front. 

How it was neither animal nor human, yet you couldn't think of any explanation as to how or why. Or how you were supposed to prove this without everyone thinking that you had gone completely crazy. Or how you were supposed to survive this attack long enough for that bastard to get here. 

Just a few moments after Atlas had retracted its claw, it gave you another smack, finding the lack of reaction somewhat depressing. 

"Come on, now. Don't let the fun die down already," it remarked as it watched you soar through the air once more, all the way to the other end of the alley.

You expected your body to hit the floor there, expected to just lay still and die before the monster could reach you again, but instead you were met with something completely different.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you to not play with your food?" the voice you had only heard once more in your life spoke up. It had sounded so playful and arrogant back then, how come it had changed into this deep and serious tone?

It made another shiver run down your spine, and if you had had the energy left to do so, you would have blushed at your body's inappropriate reaction. You weren't sure whether Dante had felt it or not, but he didn't comment on it as he slowly lowered you to the floor. He quickly checked your wounds over before focussing on Atlas, still standing where you had been lying a few seconds ago. A puddle of your blood stained the ground beneath it. 

"Well, it wouldn't surprise me if she hadn't. Can't blame any mother whose child has a face like that," Dante taunted as he took a step towards the beast, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "Or maybe that's why you're hiding yourself under that piece of cloth?"

Atlas snarled at him before jumping into the sky, the two of them flying at each other, the sound of metal clashing against claws filling the air. 

"Oh, did I hit a nerve perhaps?" Dante continued, the smirk on his face audible in his voice as he continued trading blows with Atlas.

Watching the battle from your awkward position on the ground, you could hardly believe your eyes at the inhuman abilities the man in red was displaying. There was a gap in your mind, something that held you back from understanding everything you were seeing. That monster, Atlas, and Dante... They weren't humans, it was obvious. There weren't mere wild beasts, either.

Still, you couldn't exactly care enough in that moment as you felt your eyes slowly close despite all your attempts to keep them open. You tried to move around and get your body out of its sleeping fit, but you found that you couldn't do anything through all the pain. 

You barely registered Atlas escaping the alley with its tail between its legs and Dante making his way back to you, his face now worried as he softly shook you.

"Hey, stay awake, will you? I'll take you to a hospital," was all you heard before everything went black anyway.


	5. Sparks

The smell of the place you were in penetrated your whole body and mind before you were even completely awake. Opening your eyes, you only confirmed that you were indeed lying in a hospital. Oh brother. 

Your eyes automatically started roaming about on the ceiling, your mind at once going blank as you started counting the tiles up there. Your mind was still a bit fuzzy though, so you got stuck at the two-number digits a few times and had to recount them all to get it right.

Once you did, though, you let your eyes wander downwards. You were thankful for the fact that the room was free of pictures and posters hanging on the walls, that left you with one thing less to stress about while you were supposed to get better. 

Next up, you turned your head left and right, noticing the many 'Get well' cards standing around you. Since when had you known so many people in the first place? Who actually liked you enough to spend money on you? Well, people _did_ often forget such things when something bad happens.

'Oh, poor child, all alone by that age and getting into trouble like that!' You almost started feeling nauseated at the thought. Let's just hope they didn't like you enough to visit. You'd promptly throw yourself Atlas's way if that actually happened.

At the thought of Atlas, you remembered what had happened the evening before in a flash - wait, had it actually been yesterday? For how long had you been out in the first place? What had happened anyway? You remembered calling Dante, and then Dante arriving, but after that, your mind went blank.

In your sudden wave of panic, you forced yourself up into a sitting position, ignoring the screaming and protesting of your body and just gritting your teeth together, as though that might summon more willpower.

No longer in control of the whole situation, you mind went reeling. You couldn't think straight, and in your stupor you ripped off the IV and other strings attached to your body. Finally, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed.

By now, you were already breathing heavily and the pain that your wounds were causing actually blinded you a little. Because of that, you didn't realise you had pushed yourself off the bed until your feet met the cold floor - luckily not on the edge of a tile, or else everything would have been much worse. You only realised your mistake when your legs gave out, and with a whelp you crashed onto the ground.

As you lay there, groaning and begging for a swift, painless death, the door was thrown open and in James came rushing. A nurse came in right behind him as well.

"Boss!" he called, kneeling down next to you.

When he and the nurse, who was trying to calm you down with soft words, tried to help you back onto the bed, you refused to work with them. Your mind went into an overdrive at the sudden close proximity of a complete stranger. You didn't even let a close friend like James get near you most of the time, imagine your reaction when the two of them were practically hugging you all of a sudden!

"Shit, not right now, boss! We have to get you off the floor!" But you could no longer respond. Or breathe properly for that matter.

"She's suffocating," the nurse noted as she kept her distance from you. It hadn't taken her long to realise that you disliked contact with other people quite a bit. 

James, on the other hand, just tried again, making all things even worse. 

"Man, can't you take a hint?" a new voice came from outside, its owner turning out to belong to Dante. He came rushing in with a doctor by his side and he frowned at James.

While Dante busied himself with pulling James away from you, your mind figuratively clung to the man. That's right, this guy was work. A suspect, now a witness. He had saved you, come when you had called him. But, _why_ had you called him? 

Something dawned on James and he noted your somewhat quieter state in Dante's presence. While feeling a little jealous that you had grown closer to this one guy in a few hours than to him over the years, he said, "Look, she's calming down. Pick her up." 

And indeed, you merely continued to stare ahead of yourself as Dante wrapped his arms around you, easily lifting you up into the air and onto your bed. For what it was worth, you even closed your eyes, secretly surprised by how pleasant a touch could be. And how it had been many, many years since you had been touched like this. 

That, and you were trying your best to repress all your panic-inducing questions such as: _'Why can he lift me this easily?'_ , _'How could he scare away a monster like 'Atlas'?'_ or, most of all, _'Is he actually human?'_ You would try to find the solutions to these puzzles when your mental state had regained its former glory and wouldn't break down with the touch of a stranger's finger. 

In no time at all, you were lying in bed again with all the strings attached once more and nobody in your near vicinity.

"Seems like you've got a weak spot for me, _babe_ ," Dante commented with a smirk once the nurse and doctor, who hadn't had anything interesting to tell other than that you'd be staying here for a short while, had left. 

You shot him a glare before responding with, "Don't be silly. Personal affairs can freak me out, _you_ , however, are strictly a part of my job at the moment. So don't get cocky, and for fuck's sake, stop calling me 'babe'."

Although at first James had felt more jealousy towards Dante, that soon happened to be replaced by amusement as he realised the entertaining bickering that would most likely ensue between the two of you.

This was promptly proven by Dante himself, who rubbed his stubbled jaw, a thoughtful expression on his face. "You tell me it's your job to do me, and we all know you choose jobs by searching for what you love to do. And then you also go mentioning rather suggestive words such as 'cocky' and 'fucking' in the very same sentence, so I'm not quite sure what I'm supposed to think here, m'dear." 

James clapped his hands in front of his mouth to stop himself from laughing out loud. Luckily for him, Dante was already on the receiving end of your anger, so he guessed he would be safe. At least for now.

Angered by this bastard taunting you all the time, you got up again despite James suddenly stopping with laughing and starting to protest. You leaned over towards Dante and flicked him between the eyes.

"Ow!" he yelled, holding a hand over the sore spot. "But see, you're only proving my point. I'm irresistible for you to touch."

As he exclaimed that, he lifted his hands into the air, giving you the perfect opportunity to flick him again. 

"Ow! See!" he yelled again, but this time he moved away from you and your wrath.

Just when James had managed to push you back down without causing you too much pain, the door opened again. This time, neither a nurse nor a doctor entered, though.

"Chief!" James exclaimed as the head of your department walked in, completely forgetting that he had been busy with keeping you down but half a second ago. While James bowed low in a sign of respect, you merely frowned at your boss's appearance.

He kept looking over at Dante. He tried to play it off casually, as though he were curious about the stranger, but you noticed he looked rather distraught by Dante's presence.

"Yes, hello. I decided it to be appropriate to visit one of my best men in the hospital during a free moment. I trust everything is fine with your health, for as far as that is possible right now?" Chief finally said once he focussed his attention onto you, not seeming to calm down as he did so.

"Ah, yes, thank you," you began while trying your best to hide the uneasiness his presence suddenly brought you, before remembering the stupid man sitting next to you and adding, "This is Dante. He is... helping us with the case." 

You hoped no one would comment on you leaving out the part where he actually happened to be a suspect.

The Chief nodded at Dante with a small smile and Dante returned the gesture. Then the Chief returned to you again, a serious expression on his face once more. "Ah, yes... About the case."

You sat up again, this time in anticipation as to what kind of news you were about to receive on your work. James was too occupied with not disturbing the Chief to push you down again.

"I think it would be best if you were to hand the case over to someone else." 

Frozen, you could only stare at your boss. He was kidding, right? After all you had done and _sacrificed_ , putting your life on the line to find the killer... And now you were expected to simply 'give up'? How could you possibly do that, when someone else might not get it right? He would have to start over, from scratch, and who knew how many more lives would be ended because of such a fatal mistake. 

"What? You can't just do that!" you retorted, anger slowly rising inside of you.

"B-boss...!" James whispered at you. He tried to get you to back down; threatening your boss was an obvious no-go, but you ignored him anyway.

"Yes, I can. And I will," the Chief cut both of you off. Fury was visible in his own eyes as well, which caused you to back down a little. 

Your boss had never been one to be angered by so little no matter how many times you had defied him in the past, so the fact that he was agitated over your one protest this time surprised you a little. Why, all of a sudden, did he seem adamant in getting you off this case? He knew how you threw your whole being into everything you did, so he knew that he would be killing off part of you by forcing you away from your job. 

"You're tired and not thinking straight because of the pressure this case is causing you. Exactly because of that you're now in this position, in hospital. You'll have to hand over all your notes and the evidence you have gathered to the next person to whom I assign this job and then you'll leave it behind, do you hear me?" he went on. 

The more he said, the harder you clenched your hands into fists, your knuckles going completely white as you did so. You knew that no matter what you were planning on saying, he wouldn't take it back. 

"Why would someone like you ruin her life by holding onto one single job? You're very intelligent, you can have any you want. Just let this one go."

A shiver ran down your spine at his words, though you didn't know why. You didn't know anything, at the moment. Your mind had gone completely blank again, your hands relaxing on the sheets. You stared at them, unmoving, throbbing painfully after the tight position you had forced them in a few moments ago, and merely nodded at whatever insanity the Chief was spewing at you. 

A hand found its way to your shoulder, though you couldn't tell whose it was. In that moment, you couldn't care less and merely continued staring at your hands.

"I'm glad you understand me. Then I shall leave you to recover as quick as possible. There will be a lot of work waiting for you when you do!" He probably meant to cheer you up, but it didn't help an iota. You just felt relieved when he finally left the room, and you thought that _he_ almost looked relieved to be able to leave, too.

The thought left your mind immediately, though, as James and Dante turned their attention to you. James because he had known you and your stubbornness for years, and Dante just because he had a hunch.

"So?" they both asked at the same time.

"So what?" you mumbled, acting confused. You knew exactly what they were asking. 

"Are you really...?" James began.

He thought that would be enough, but Dante helped him finish his sentence anyway, "Going to quit?"

You finally lifted your eyes from your hands and a small smile found its way onto your lips. "What do you think?"


	6. From Butterflies to Hurricanes

A week, or maybe two or three - you really hadn't bothered counting - later found you sitting on your bed, legs crossed, as you read a book you had always wanted to pick up but never quite found the time for, with your work and all. However, the lovely silence was interrupted when a nurse you had seen more often than not during your stay but of whom you had never bothered to remember the name of - you didn't bother to remember a lot of things these days - entered your room with a bright smile.

"So, I guess you'll be leaving soon, right?" she started as she began to check your vitals, reading most of them off the machinery still attached to you. 

"This afternoon, actually," you added. Already knowing what to do, you removed your shirt so that the nurse had better access to your wounds.

While she busied herself with your bandages, you went back to reading in your book to try and ignore the close proximity of this woman inside your personal bubble. She had learned of your dislike of close contact with people with your first episode, though, so she knew to try and keep some distance between the two of you.

"You must be excited to leave again, huh?" she asked as she finished replacing your bandages and immediately took a step back to give you some space.

You shrugged, noting that the pain now only felt like you had done some vigorous work-out the day before. Much better than the feeling of knives poking your flesh from in the beginning. "I guess so."

"Oh, don't be so cool about it. Didn't you end up here because of your job? That would make anybody think that you're very attached to it," the nurse went on, dumping the dirtied bandages in the trash can by the side of the door before she went to sit next to you on your bed, at the far end away from you.

"I don't think I'll be working properly anytime soon, though," you muttered and turned a page of your book. 

The nurse looked at her hands in her lap, a sad expression on her face as she did so. "Yes, I heard of the conversation between you and your boss. I'm sorry to hear."

You held back a scoff, doubting she was actually sorry for you. People always said that to act kind and interested, when they'd rather move onto another subject that might centre more around themselves. 

To your surprise, that wasn't the case this time. "I sincerely hope everything will get better for you. But I've got to go and see some other patients now. I hope to see you again before you leave." 

Without waiting for a response from you, probably having grown accustomed to your silence, she left the room while humming a soft tune. You stared after her, wondering if there actually might be people out there who weren't all fake like you had thought before returning your attention to your book. 

With a grumble, you realised you didn't even feel like reading any longer. So instead, you put your shirt back on and decided to go over your notes once more, in preparation for your first steps out of this place. 

Later that day, Dante came by for the first time since he had witnessed your being thrown out of the case by the Chief. For one, you had told him to stay away because the only reason that you'd contact him would be for said case, and that would merely conjure suspicion from everyone who thought you had accepted your defeat. 

Also, because Dante himself had been busy too, though you weren't quite sure whether you actually wanted to know what it was that he had been doing or not. 

But anyway, it had been a good moment to think everything through very thoroughly. He had abnormally white hair for his age, and those blue eyes didn't seem entirely human either. The way he had caught you when you had been thrown into the air by Atlas and how he had actually fought the beast afterwards - you had remembered more of your trip to downtown once a few days had passed - scaring him off and then carrying you, probably with ease, to this hospital. And then how he had picked you off the floor and onto the bed a few days ago. You didn't know exactly how much you weighed, it still seemed unlikely that anybody would be able to lift you up with such ease, without even a grunt or anything. 

He had also known about the case from the very beginning. Hadn't he warned you, after all? And wasn't his business called ' _Devil May Cry_ '? That in itself seemed rather strange. Was that what he was, then? A devil? _The_ devil? But then what on earth could you call Atlas? It seemed rather unlikely that _the_ devil would have trouble with whatever the hell that had been. Or if Atlas was the devil, then he wouldn't have run off from Dante like that, would he? 

The more you thought about it, the more confused you ended up making yourself, so you had set out to ask him any and all questions that you had the next time he would come to visit you. Which was today, right now.

"Well damn, if it isn't my favourite detective who specially requested my presence inside the space of her personal bubble," Dante yelled as he stormed into your room and you almost regretted your decision to ask him to come. 

You hung your head just to get your point across, too.

"Aww come on. Don't be like that! You know I enjoy having privileges when it comes to you. Makes me feel special, you know, honey?" 

Rubbing your temples and closing your eyes, you tried to focus on the problem at hand instead of your irritation. 

"Dante, this is important. Be serious," you scolded him while crossing your arms. His eyes wandered downwards from your face and as you repressed a sigh, you concluded that had been the wrong thing to do. Luckily, you always crossed your arms _over_ your breasts, not _under_ them.

"First, what's the magic word?" Dante replied with that bloody twinkle in his eyes once he made eye contact with you again.

You were almost regretting your decision to leave no stone unturned, wishing that you had left this huge, ugly rock right where it belonged. At the bottom of the ocean where it couldn't bother anybody but the fish and other animals that lived down there. Though even now, you knew that Dante would close the gap between you and this mystery case. Unfortunately.

Plus, no matter how much you hated it, your body seemed to be... _enjoying_ his presence. It seemed as though your brain calmed down when he was near, and though you were inexperienced when it came to this subject, you weren't oblivious to the rate of your heartbeat quickening its pace and the sudden increase of sweat that your body excreted at just the thought of him. You didn't like this at all, so you mostly just ignored it. Not that you were ever going to admit all this out loud to anybody, anyway. Atlas eating you was more likely to happen than that.

With a roll of your eyes, you did as Dante wanted. " _Please_."

He smiled once more, said, "Thank you," and then did a complete one-eighty; all humour disappearing in the blink of an eye. It almost seemed as though he had been preparing himself for this moment. Well, it was rather obvious this conversation had to take place someday, right?

"Alrighty then... Shoot. Not literally, of course, though if you feel like you need to... Then shoot anyway," Dante began, confusing you a little.

Had that been another joke? But he didn't look like he was joking? Come on, you were the smartest person you knew, you could figure this stupid riddle out. And just then, combining the spoken words with an image of the 'fight' or whatever one wanted to call it, between Dante and Atlas, it clicked inside your mind: he _was_ being serious. He meant what he said... You could shoot him and he'd be perfectly fine.

"You're not one of them, are you?" you asked him as you looked him dead in the eye. He didn't back down, avert eye contact or anything else. From that, you concluded that he was very comfortable with being whatever he was. So he had been like 'this' all his life, or at least a large part of it, and had had enough time to get used to it. Also, his bright blue eyes were very much appreciated by your body. God damn it, not right now...

Dante raised an eyebrow at you and you hoped it was because of your question and your genius, not because of your traitorous body revealing its admiring of him.

"You mean 'one of them' as in, am I a partner of the Atlas or am I that which the Atlas also is?" he finally responded, relieving you of your anxiety and giving you something to think about at the same time.

"Both? But I'm guessing from the reactions of you two during that confrontation that you're not a friend of Atlas, or _the_ Atlas, or whatever," you added, wiping your hands off of the sheets you were sitting on.

"Correct. And yes, you could say I am one of them on the other question." 

You tilted your head to the side, trying to grasp what he meant. "'You could say'? That's not an actual 'yes', is it?"

Dante suddenly grinned again. He himself felt rather relieved as well: relieved you hadn't run off screaming yet at the thought that he wasn't exactly human.

"Okay, look, let me sing you the song of my people." You shot him a warning look, but that didn't work out so well when you actually found his joke to be amusing, so he just continued, "Once, there was a mighty demon called Sparda, the Legendary Dark Knight-" 

He stopped when he saw you open your mouth to interrupt him, but he answered your question before you could even ask it. "Yes, there are demons and there's even a Hell or whatever you want to call it where they live."

You closed your mouth, realising there wasn't anything you could actually ask about that. Demons existed, and so did some kind of underworld of sorts. Got it. 

"Well, first of all, there was of course a ruler of this Hell, called Mundus, also known as the Prince of Darkness, the Dark Emperor, the Devil King, the Devil Prince, and last but questionably not least, _Pluto_. Take your pick." He didn't actually give you enough time to choose a favourable nickname.

"As you may have noticed from his titles, he wasn't exactly a good guy. About two millennia ago, he killed the previous Demon King and planned to lead an assault on the world we're in right now, the Human World. And that's where our hero, the great Sparda, comes in. You see, he was a chief general in Mundus's army. The story goes that he 'awoke to justice'." Dante used finger quotes to emphasise his point before continuing, "and all by himself, he defeated the evil king Mundus, after which he disappeared, though we know he ruled over the human race and protected them, even though this caused him to be branded a traitor by other demons."

Dante cleared his throat and you wondered if he had finished the story. You felt that you missed something and asked yourself what this had to do with the question whether Dante was 'one of them' or not, but before you could say anything, he went on again. 

"Anyway, skipping forward a few years, the hero Sparda met and fell in love with a lovely female human, whose name was Eva. She was beautiful, with long, flowing, golden hair and a friendly face that always had a smile ready for loved ones..." Dante trailed off, his eyes unfocussed as though he were in a place far, far away. You shifted uncomfortably at the sudden silence and coughed a few times to bring him back into the present.

"Yes, sorry," Dante muttered as he shook his head a bit before continuing, "Sparda and Eva, they fell in love, married and had twins. Everything was fine and well until their eighth birthday, when Mundus finally got his revenge on Sparda for defeating him, his demons killing Eva. How Sparda himself died, no one really knows. But Eva gave her life protecting her sons, the older twin, named Vergil, disappearing to who knows where and the younger twin, standing right here, helping you defeat a demon because that's what he does. Is that enough of an answer for you?"

Dante watched you in anticipation, while you sat unmoving on your bed. Your mind, on the other hand, was racing about like it never had before, trying to wrap itself around what you had just been told.

Demons existed. They came from some Hell and had wanted to take over the 'human' world. The world that you had always considered to be the one and only real world out there. And Dante's _father_ had defeated them. Half-human, half-demon, then. It explained the name of his business, _Devil May Cry_ and his cheap-looking office because how many people could possibly come to his door, looking for a demon exterminator? The hair, the eyes, the way he had managed to hold you as though you weighed nothing more than a tennis ball or how he had fought back against Atlas... It all seemed so obvious now. And he had made it quite clear that he was on 'your side', whatever that may be. 

Okay. You could live with this. 

"You alright? Should I have sung the song a little slower?" Dante offered. He now looked rather concerned and even a bit frightened. Why on Earth would he be scared for your reaction? How many humans had he already scared off and what would one more matter to the list? 

Though a little shaken at this sudden revelation, you still managed a smile for him as you pushed away the thought of since when you had become considerate of other people's feelings. You told yourself that this guy happened to be a half-demon and you didn't want to know what kind of torture he could make you suffer if you were to get on his bad side. 

"No, it's fine. Thank you for the information, I think I should thank you for this major breakthrough on the case," you replied before he could say any more. You felt pleased with the relieved look on Dante's face, before scolding yourself that you shouldn't become so attached to a witness. 

It was just for this one job. When you closed this case, you'd put this all behind yourself and go back to living life the way you had before you knew all this. 

Still, you wondered if you would ever be able to go back in the first place. More specifically, if you would ever _want_ to go back.


	7. Promises

"So, just to make sure, you know how to change your bandages?" a nurse you hadn't seen before asked you as she checked everything over one last time.

It seemed as though she planned on making that last time the longest one, too.

Still, you nodded your head, pushing your irritation at these formalities to the side. She was only doing her job, just as you wanted to get back to doing yours. 

"And you're going to make sure that you'll refresh them _at least_ twice a day?" she continued, her eyes wandering over the clipboard she had been holding in her hands for the past fifteen minutes now. 

You didn't even bother moving this time, assuming the nurse would assume your nod either way. She hadn't looked up from that board since the beginning of this interrogation in the first place.

"Have you already looked at the pills you're going to have to keep on taking when you've been released?"

Yes, and you had also checked that they worked well with the other medication you were on, mostly against your insomnia. Also what the side effects of an overdoses might be if your OCD were to attack. 

"Also, an extra note from the doctor, of which he has already notified your boss..." she began again, flipping through the weeks worth of paper your vitals had filled up, "You're supposed to continue resting at home, because your wounds haven't recovered enough for you to be up and about too much. So the doctor suggests you either take it easy, or just stay at home for another week or so, and even after that just really be careful for maybe a month. So don't jump back into work, but take your time and-"

"Do you have diarrhea right now?" 

The nurse's face went red at the embarrassing question as she wondered how you could have possibly come to such a question. Because this happened to be the first time for you to meet her, you felt no sympathy towards her like you did towards the other nurses who had put up with you during your stay. 

"W-what? No? Why?" she asked you, her stuttering not making you want to hold your crude comments any longer. 

"Because you're spouting out so much shit right now." And with that, you jumped off the bed, gathered your coat and other things before making your way towards the door. "I'll do whatever I want, whenever I want and no matter how many years some person spent studying books at school, I won't listen to what he thinks is best for my body, thank you very much."

After a quick pat of your pockets to make sure you had everything on you, you left the nurse stand baffled. You knew fully well that you merely had to sign something at the receptionist's desk to get out of this place. 

James surprised you by standing at aforementioned desk when you entered the main room downstairs. He grinned at you, obviously happy at you being released. The office was far too quiet without you doing your rituals and criticising the clothes of other people.

"Hey boss," he greeted you once you stood in front of him. "I bet you're happy to get out of here, right? Go on, sign the papers first and we'll talk on our way out."

You hadn't even had the time to respond, the corners of your lips twitching upwards in a smile as you walked past him and up to the desk. The woman sitting behind it watched you cautiously, probably already having heard many stories from the other nurses who had met you. Not that it bothered you, or anything. 

"Can I sign the papers to leave?" you asked, not even trying to be polite. You just wanted to get out of this Hell hole as soon as possible. 

The receptionist raised an eyebrow at your attitude, but with a shake of her head gathered and handed you the papers in question. With a sigh of relief, you lifted a pen lying about on the desk, attached to the wood by an annoying twirling cord that kept getting in the way. After you had won the battle, you scribbled something that may or may not have resembled your signature at the bottom of the page, not bothering to read what was written on it. Practically throwing the pen away and sliding the contract back towards the receptionist, who shook her head again at your hastiness, you strode off in the direction of the exit, James scrambling to follow you in his surprise.

"H-hey, are you that desperate to get out of here?" he yelped, and then squealed again when you stopped without warning him first. He managed to keep himself from colliding against your back, not wanting to burst your personal bubble. 

You ignored his rambling as you closed your eyes and took in a deep breath, relinquishing the smell of non-hospital air and drowning in the sea of sounds that belonged to the outside world, no longer surrounded by the mechanical bleeping of hospital machinery. 

"Boss, are you alright?" James asked them, interrupting your reveries. 

With an incoherent grumble, you redirected your attention towards your assistant. "Yes, I'm perfectly fine. Just because I was hospitalised doesn't mean that you should freak out at every one of my moments."

"'Just because you were hospitalised'? Boss, you could have died! You do know that, right?" the boy retorted, throwing his arms in the air in frustration. Passers-by were already starting to stare at the scene you were causing, and you had barely even left the hospital. 

"Yes, but I didn't, did I? Everything went fine and I met the culprit," you responded coolly. You didn't want to get into trouble right now, so you tried to act calm so that James would become less agitated as well.

Your plan backfired, however, and James interpreted the way you distanced yourself from the conversation as though you didn't care about the situation at all. He stared at you, incredulous, and muttered, "You really don't give a shit, do you?"

Okay, no use trying to get him to calm down. You were going to face him head on, then.

"Yes, I do, and you know that. But it's in the past now, and I truly am fine. What use will worrying about it do now?" you asked him and pulled him to the side so that you weren't blocking the entrance any longer.

"It shows that you were capable of doing it once, which means you might do it again someday. And then you might not be so lucky." 

For once, you weren't quite sure what to say, your smart mouth running off and leaving you behind. Only now did you realise the effects that your actions could have on other people, people who still cared about your wellbeing. You weren't on your own any more and had to be considerate of other people's feelings again. You didn't know whether this was something to happy over or not, though.

A sigh left your lips and your shoulders sagged, exhaustion suddenly washing over you. "Okay, you're right. I'm sorry, okay? Next time, I'll try to think things through more thoroughly."

James didn't look convinced yet. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest and gave you another look that told you exactly that, after which you sighed again and lifted one hand into the air. "I promise."

Knowing that you always kept your promises, James now let his posture relax, a burden being lifted from his shoulders. 

"Thank you," he said, a small smile appearing on his face. "Now let's get you home, alright?" 

Now it was your turn to give the man an incredulous stare. "You've got to be kidding me, right? I've just been cooped up inside this shitty place for I don't even want to know how long and you're sending me home the minute I'm free? We're going to the office right now to figure something out about this case, got it?"

But James countered your defiance with another look that gave you no room for objections. The fact that you actually had nothing to say in response at the seriousness in his face made you wonder what had happened to the young, inexperienced boy who used to be so easy for you to push around all the time. Had he grown up so much since the last time you had properly evaluated his personality? 

"How many more times do I have to tell you that you should rest more often? You're so stubborn, it's more likely you'll kill yourself, and not some psycho murderer whose case you're investigating," James retorted, but the expression on his face told you he wasn't done with persuading you just yet.

With a roll of your eyes, you leaned with your back against the wall of the hospital you had been standing next to. "Fine. Humour me, if you must."

James held up a finger in the air, the seriousness now taken over by a hint of amusement showing in his eyes. "Our third case together, the case after which you stopped calling me 'puppy'. You remember that, don't you?"

"You expect me to forget one of my cases, James? You disappoint me, _puppy_ ," you replied with a grin before recounting, "The Chopper. Sick guy who liked to chop up women and spread the body parts all over the city."

"Yes. And you had gotten so deep into it, you 'forgot' to eat, drink and sleep and ended up fainting on my doorstep when you came to collect me for another interrogation. I had to take care of you for a week because you refused to go to the hospital and threatened to get the Chief to fire me if I did so."

"Okay, fine, that was just stupid. But you've got to admit, I've improved since then."

James shook his head and added another finger to the one he was still holding high. "Our twelfth case. That guy who kidnapped young girls, instead tying dogs to the spot where he had taken them, leaving a note with a clue in their collars."

You frowned at the mention of that and wondered out loud, "Wait, I don't remember anything unusual happening there?"

"No? Well, that's because it had been raining all week and you had been out and about almost all day. You had gotten quite sick, so sick that you didn't even call into work for a few days. Nobody knew what had happened to you until I decided to check up on you, finding you half dead on your bed. You actually finished that case while you were sick... With my help, of course." 

"Ah, so that explains why I never could properly remember how the twelfth case had been solved. Proves just what a genius I am, I guess," you gloated as you ran a hand through your hair. 

"Boss... The point is, you need to take better care of yourself. I could stand here all day, naming all the cases where something went wrong because you neglected your health. And that's why I'm now going to take you home and tell the Chief to fire you if he sees you at the office in the next three days," James threatened, finally lowering his hand. 

"Wait, you can't actually make him do that, I'm the best man he has!" you told him, but he ignored you and merely started making his way towards his car.

Having no other choice but to follow him, that was exactly what you did, asking him about his threat all the way. When he didn't respond to anything you said, you gave up with a sigh.

"Fine, I promise to look after myself better now. At least, I'll _try_ to. But you know how fired up I can get when I want to solve a case," you muttered.

"Yes, I know that better than anybody else. But you're not on your own anymore, haven't been for years, so please just rely on me a bit more. You'll see just how useful I've become thanks to your Spartan training," James finally replied. The smile on his face managed to cheer you up a little, too.

"Of course you're useful. You've been trained by the very best, after all."

"Now that's pushing it."

"It's only the truth."

"..."

"If you can't handle the truth, you shouldn't have become my assistant. You know that."

"Don't you have a murderer you want to capture by luring him out?"

"Yes, but weren't you listening during this whole conversation where I promised to be more careful from now on?"

"Damn it all."


	8. Vision Driver

One night, many fruitless attempts to sleep and a haze-induced frenzy with so many images, possibilities and thoughts concerning case flitting about in front of you later, you were lounging on the couch that stood perfectly in the middle of your living room. On the elegant saloon table placed exactly half a metre away from the sofa, piles of papers were stacked on top of each other, most of them not scientific, instead concerning myths about 'demons' and the like. After all, what you might have seen could've been hallucinated because of the pain, and Dante might be a lying bastard. That still didn't explain the reason why you had been in pain in the first place, so you continued to search for a logical answer, if such a thing even existed in the first place. 

An old grandfather clock that stood in the middle of two large bookshelves situated behind your couch chimed twelve o'clock, bringing you out of your reading frenzy.

"Damn," you muttered under your breath as you realised that you had forgotten to take your medication, and that it might be time to put on some new bandages. You hadn't done so the evening before; you just hadn't felt like doing it and had 'forgotten' it. 

Not like you actually felt like doing it right now, but you thought that maybe you didn't need any additional 'quirks', like an irrational fear of germs, by neglecting your wounds and causing them to become infected. 

Getting up from your spot after neatly placing the book you had been reading on the table, you made your way towards your kitchen and hoped that you hadn't left the needed supplies upstairs in the bathroom or your bedroom. You had found that your physical form had deteriorated quite horribly since the 'attack'. Normally, you could have climbed the usual flight of stairs to the upper floor of your house in but a few strides without a problem, but now you found that you had to take it slow and steady, and even then you were practically gasping for breath when you were finally upstairs. And you _hated_ doing things slow and steady.

Much to your relief, you found your medicine next to the basin and a few fresh rolls of bandages and whatever else you needed in one of your cupboards. You had to ask James to bring you some more next time he planned on coming around, which was sure to be soon enough, knowing his worrywarting ass. 

By now, your body was slowly starting to protest against movement again, so you quickly swallowed whatever pills the doctor had told you to take with a glass of water. Once you had gotten that out of the way, you pulled off your shirt, folded it and placed it on the dinner table, your bra following it, albeit much slower because the strap shifted uncomfortably over the wound.

As you made your way back to the couch with the bandages and whatnot, you gingerly pulled off the dressing so that you could inspect the damage done to your body. You weren't quite sure whether you were supposed to be glad that it looked okay - as okay as such a wound could possibly look, anyway - or to be disappointed because it hadn't been a dream and it was still there. 

You placed the dressing with its dirty side up on one of your books on the table and dropped the fresh supplies on the couch before sitting down yourself.

Though you had told that nurse you knew how to change your bandages, you actually had no clue as to what you were supposed to do. You unrolled one of the bandages until you held one long piece of cloth in the air, and then you realised that you were supposed to put on the dressing first. Still, how were you supposed to wind that whole bandage around your torso and shoulder if you couldn't properly move the arm attached to your wounded shoulder?

The answer presented itself to you when you heard a tapping on your window to your left, where the backdoor was. Forgetting the fact that you were half-naked, and not really caring either, you straightened your back and turned slightly to see who it was. 

You were surprised to see Dante leaning against the window, his hands shaped like a binocular placed in front of his face to help him look inside. You could almost feel his gaze meet yours, and a shiver ran through your body as you were reminded to your meeting with Atlas, when you had felt his stare as well. 

When Dante realised that you weren't wearing anything, he made a sound that seemed like a grunt, jumped back and tried to act as nonchalantly as possible, whistling as he did so. With a smile at his antics, you shook your head and forsook collecting the rest of your clothes in the kitchen. He had seen you now, so what did it matter? Plus, this would be the perfect opportunity to bully the man a little.

You opened the door and Dante spun around, expecting that you had made yourself look decent again. Instead, he froze at the sight of your breasts, his mouth wide open in what he had planned would be his greeting. 

A smirk graced your features as you stood there in the doorway, leaning against the door. For good measure, you crossed your arms, for this one time under your breasts. 

Your victory was short-lived, however, and it took the man shorter than you had expected to get back on track. "Are you happy to see me or are you just cold?"

Feeling bold, probably because of those medications or something, you laughed and gave him the satisfaction of not answering that question. And after all, you felt uncomfortable with lying.

"I didn't prepare for your arrival, if that's what you're thinking. I was actually just about to put on some new bandages, but I kind of got stuck. Your perfect timing might be able to help me out," you finally said as you stepped aside to let him in.

His eyes ventured higher, towards your shoulder, and he let out a low whistle. "That looks worse than I had expected."

"Yeah, well, what're you gonna do?" You shrugged with one shoulder and closed the door behind him. 

"By the way, didn't the nurses show you how to refresh your bandages yourself?" Dante asked you as he ventured farther into your home. 

"I have more important things to remember than how to do something like that," you responded while you made your way back over to the kitchen, planning on fetching him something to drink. Maybe if you acted like a nice hostess, he would help you in return. 

Dante didn't respond for he was too busy feeling slightly taken aback by the perfection with which your room had been furnished. To his right were the two large bookcases with the grandfather clock in the middle. Both bookcases were filled from top to bottom, though he noticed many of them now also filled your saloon table. Upon closer inspection, he would see that each and every book had its assigned spot, of course in alphabetical order. His fingers twitched at the perfection at it, but you could practically feel the disturbance his thoughts were causing from all the way over in the kitchen.

"Don't even think about it!"

Dante gulped and kept his hands clasped behind his back as he continued exploring. 

The couch must have been placed in the middle of the room, and he wouldn't even be surprised if you had crawled around with a tapeline to realise this. He was also sure that there was some kind of correlation between the position of the saloon table to the couch, or something else in the room. There was another, smaller armchair placed at what Dante guessed to be a perfect ninety degrees angle with the couch, which had the same colour, and had the same amount of distance between it and the table. Under these pieces of furniture was a circle rug: faded, old, and - surprise surprise - in perfect harmony with the rest of the room, filling up just enough of the room for the table, couch and matching armchair to stand on, but not touching anything else. 

To the right of the sofa was the front door, and by its sides stood two plants that even he could discern were fakes. You probably didn't have enough time to take care of real ones, he presumed. He didn't acknowledge the rest of the room, finding that looking around hurt his eyes. To the front of the couch was the opening to the kitchen - no door - where you were just coming out of, holding a glass of lemonade. 

"Didn't have anything else," you stated before he could complain about not wanting that, giving him no other choice than to accept it. 

"Wow, thanks," Dante responded with a grin before placing it somewhere on the saloon table where he was sure you might not get mad at him. 

Then he motioned towards the couch and waited for you to sit down before he joined you.

"Come on, let's get this over with," he suggested, wanting to get your too large amount of flesh out of his sight. Not that he didn't like seeing what he saw, he just found it a little uncomfortable when the one showing all the flesh acted like it was nothing. Couldn't you at least act overly comfortable and smug, and not as though you were still actually wearing something?!

You obliged and quickly turned your head away so that your hair wouldn't get in the way while he grabbed the dressing and other needed things. Though Dante thought you acted as if this were nothing, deep inside you were burning red in embarrassment. Not that your mind agreed with this, just that your body was writhing underneath the level of self-control you could practice over it. The worst thing was that you didn't even know why it reacted like this when it came to Dante. Dante was work, he would leave your life as soon as this was over. You had never felt like this with anybody else, so why all of a sudden right now, and with a guy you had only seen a handful of times nonetheless? It would have even been more logical to suddenly feel attracted to _James_ , after years of knowing and being around him. 

Dante's fingertips brushed against the skin of your shoulder as he pressed the sides of the dressing to make it stay put. As he did so, he felt a tiny tremor beneath his fingers and frowned at the sudden tension hanging in the air. With a shrug, he dubbed it 'crazy women stuff' and went to grab the rolls of bandages, starting with the unwound one you had dropped on the couch earlier. 

All the while, you stared straight ahead at the bookshelves behind the couch, your eyes roaming over the various titles you had gathered over the course of the years. Then you inspected the clock, going over the decorations on it. You could probably draw it without looking at it by now, having examined and stared at it for so many times. Quite ironically, you had gotten the grandfather clock from your grandfather, who had been the most important person in your life, right up until his death. 

He had been the only one to accept you as you were, like your parents never could. No, they much preferred your sister, who wasn't quite normal either, but she was at least better than you were, according to your parents. Not that it mattered any more. Both your parents had died in a 'tragic' accident, but you hadn't even bothered going to their funeral, hadn't had contact with the rest of your family since. Except for your grandfather. But he, too, was long gone, so all of it didn't matter.

"Yoohoo, anybody home?" Dante inquired, snapping his fingers in front of your face. 

With a shake of your head, you brought yourself back to this time and age, all sentimental thoughts leaving your mind as you did so. 

"Right, thanks. Let me put my clothes back on," you mumbled, abruptly getting up without waiting for another word to leave Dante's mouth. 

In the kitchen, you put your clothes back on as slowly as you could, just to have something to do. When you had straightened your shirt, you let out a long breath and ran a hand through your hair.

"Get yourself together, damn," you told yourself with a slap to your cheeks before joining Dante again on the sofa. 

"So, why are you here, actually? How did you even get my address in the first place?" you asked him, suddenly realising that it would've been all to convenient if he had just stopped by in that exact moment you needed some help with your bandages. You might be a little slower than usual because of all the meds in your system, but that didn't mean you were stupid. 

"I just wanted to tell you that I've been looking out for that bastard and that I haven't sensed, seen or smelled him since you got hospitalised," Dante replied, handily leaving out the part of how he knew where you lived. Probably had gotten it out of James, anyway.

"Wait, you can smell like that?" you wondered out loud. You hadn't met any other so-called 'half-demons', after all, and you were going to make the most out of your acquaintance with this one. 

"Why does that one interest you, but not the sensing part? No, I can't really smell better. Or see better, either. Sorry to disappoint you. Hearing, on the other hand..." 

You held up a hand to silence him, not needing to hear him say any more to know that he was on his way to say something dirty. The pout on his face told you that you had been right, but something else was on your mind now.

"The people at the hospital..." you began, a frown on your face all of a sudden.

"You mean the doctors and nurses? They're kind people, you know. Save people for a living and all that," Dante intercepted and held his hands up defensively when you shot him a glare.

"Yes, and I make my living catching the people who might kill them for a living, while guys like you do... I don't even know what you do for a living," you retorted, but you weren't particularly interested. Or you had just figured it out by yourself, judging by the huge sword he had lugged around in the night he fought Atlas. Or just simply by the way how he had fought Atlas in the first place.

"Glad you asked, I-"

You silenced him by pressing your finger to his lips. "Those _nurses_ and _doctors_ at the hospital, right? What did you tell them about what happened?"

Dante shrugged and waited for you to retract your hand so his mouth once more had free reign. "Your boy-"

" _James_."

"-said that your Chief-dude had explained it to them. Told them some drunk with a sickle had attacked you," he finished.

"What about my head-wound?" you asked, growing more confused with every passing second. 

When Atlas had thrown you against the wall, your head had smacked against the bricks. Luckily, it had been less hard than it had felt and all that remained of it was now a scab, hidden under your hair. You vaguely remembered a nurse commenting on how surprised she had been that you hadn't fared any worse, that even a concussion had been avoided. Or something like that, you hadn't really paid attention to every single word those ladies had told you. 

"Uh, what had it been? Something about falling over and hitting the ground, I think?" Dante offered with a small grin, feeling a little ashamed that he hadn't really listened to what James had told him. At least one of you was. 

Before you could say anything more, he asked, "Why does it matter, anyway? He couldn't have known, right? What else should he have said?"

Another sharp look from you told him that that he, once again, was wrong. "It matters a lot. He couldn't have known what had happened, so he _had_ to make something up. But why, then, a sickle? How could he have known that my wound had such a shape? Had it really been that obvious?"

You suddenly remembered how nervous the Chief had been when he had entered your hospital room to tell you that he'd be taking you off the case. And then, in a flash, you thought back to Atlas's reaction once he had gotten close enough to recognise your face. He had almost backed down. And he had kept his eyes covered; had that been to cover up his human-like eyes? You quickly stopped yourself from thinking any further, not actually wanting to conclude anything without proper evidence. But with all these connections practically staring you in the face, that might be a difficult thing to do.

"Hm, now that I think about it, he didn't even get to see the wound itself. I had been there all the time, from when they took you in till after they had patched you up, there was no way he could have seen it. Unless he... no, they wouldn't allow visitors if you had to take off your shirt for new bandages," Dante added, slowly catching onto your drift. "Do you really...?"

He didn't finish his sentence, but he didn't have to. You looked him dead in the eye, and despite realising you might be uncovering personal information about himself that he might not want to reveal, asked him, "Can demons take on the form of a human?" 

Dante burst out in laughter, having felt the sudden uneasiness lingering in your voice. "No, I mean yes, I mean..." 

"What's so funny?" you grumbled, crossing your arms and glaring at the man. 

"Nothing," Dante managed between chuckles as his fit died down, "Just, you being _considerate_ of someone." 

He went on laughing softly while you reprimanded yourself for going soft on this bastard. "Fine! Are you in reality a hideous monster, though it might not be much of a setback compared to what your current appearance is. Couldn't you have chosen something more appealing?"

"Ouch!" He held his hand over his heart, all laughter suddenly gone. "I, for one, think this especially _fleshy_ body I have chosen has become quite a hit with the average human lady..." 

A raised eyebrow from you made the mirth that could still be heard in his voice leave, too, and he coughed softly. "Okay, fine. This is my one and only appearance. Other demons can change their shape, though. Not all, but some."

"Thank you," you responded with a nod, rubbing your chin as your mind started racing.

Could it really be possible that your boss, your Chief, had been a demon in human form all this time? But then why had he only just recently started eating humans? Had the real Chief been killed by Atlas and then replaced by him? 

"Damn, looking at you think makes my brain hurt. I guess I'll get going then, leave you to all that mental working out and do another round of the city," Dante announced as he got up. 

You turned your mind off for a second to look up and say, "Yes, that would be great. Thanks." Immediately after, you went back to staring ahead of you as various scenarios unfolded themselves inside your head. 

Dante shook his head and shrugged his shoulders before leaving through the back door, muttering something like, "What have I gotten myself into?" 

Half an hour later, you got up to find a book you needed, beelining towards your section for authors whose last name starting with an _R_. Your hand had already been lifted into the air, your body having remembered exactly where what book was and expecting to feel the designated cover... Only to grab air. 

You checked if you were in the right place, just in case... And finding that you were indeed searching in the right spot, your eyebrows dipped down into an angry frown.

"DANTE, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!"


	9. Connections

A few more days passed by rather peacefully and Dante-freely, if one ignored the random panic attacks you got when you thought something might or might not be out of place. In those moments, you would force James to drop everything he happened to be doing to help you out and make sure everything was just as he had remembered it and that you had just moved yourself something without knowing it. At least you never had a shortage of dressings and bandages, for you would order him to bring another pack with him whenever you called him over. This might sum up the happiness the poor boy felt when you were finally allowed to come back to work again. 

The night before, however, made your own happiness at being allowed to return to work waver when, in its preparing for another workday, your body wouldn't allow your mind some much-needed rest. With your body itself being tired since your encounter with Atlas, you had slept like never before and had managed to forget about this little thing people called insomnia. However, now that you were able to walk up and down the stairs a few times without breaking a sweat again, your body no longer wanted to sleep and your inability to fall asleep like normal people could disappeared with your physical weariness. You had somehow forgotten what it felt like, lying in bed and just being incapable of closing your eyes and drifting off into a quiet sleep, turning this way and that, not sure whether one was too cold or too warm. 

You despised the little bottle of sleeping pills you always kept in your nightstand and glowered at it as you fetched it out of its drawer. You had hoped that somehow, with you meeting devils and demons and all that, you might have somehow been cured of your ailment, but it seemed that you had no such luck. 

In the palm of your hand you weighed a tab, and finding it not to be the exact right weight, put it back and repeated the procedure with a second, third, and eventually a fourth pill. Finally, the feeling of the fifth tablet felt satisfactory in your hand and you popped it into your mouth, hoping it would do its job sooner rather than later. 

Forcing your mind to remain blank during the next few sleepless hours, you didn't really know when you drifted off and how well you slept, though when you woke up but a few hours later, you felt horrible. 

Rolling out of bed, you cursed every fibre inside of you and then some. Your brain only began to function again once you had had breakfast and a cup of coffee, after which you got dressed for work. 

Despite the terrible night, you stood just outside your door at the exact same time as every other day when you went to work. Of course after having checked a few times that all the lights and taps were off, the oven out, the backdoor locked and that you had your wallet, phone and keys with you. 

Nobody looked up in surprise when you walked into the office at exactly nine o'clock, save for James, who just as always came running in at the last moment, knowing that you didn't tolerate latecomers. You didn't want to think about what time he had strolled in through those doors in the past few days during your absence. It was time to bring some order in this chaos once more. 

"You've been gone for a few days and you still maintain that pattern of yours?" he panted, hands on his knees as sweat dripped down his face.

Today his condition was worse than usual. He had forgotten that today would be your first day back at work, then, and remembered at the last possible moment that you were to return today. 

You shook your head at him and without saying a word walked farther into the building to make your way towards your office, the still-panting boy hot on your heels. Like you would lose your way of doing things in only a few days of absence. How foolish. 

Once he had regained his breath, James began to ask you various questions about how you were feeling and such. Others who also worked at the police office asked much the same questions as he did and you happily ignored all of them as you continued to stride towards the door that first led to James's, and then to your room. Not forgetting to check your pockets just before entering, and then again for your own door, you let yourself fall into your chair, swirling it around a few times as you relished the feeling of being back at work.

James, finally having won back most of his breath, stood in the doorway and smiled at the happy look on your face. He didn't even bother feeling confused when it came to your sudden mood swings, having gotten used to them a long time ago. He was just glad that you were back where you belonged.

"When you're ready, Chief told me to tell you that he has some paperwork for you," James informed you when you were done playing with your chair. "Doesn't want you up and running around doing other cases yet, or so he told me. Or we don't have anything right now."

You raised an eyebrow at him, your relief for being back in your workplace dwindling as you let your mind run over the information a few more times. Ugh, paperwork. The only bad thing that came with this job. You were here for the panic-induced marathons through the city, trying to find the culprit as fast as possible. You lived for the adrenaline coursing through your veins, loved the way your mind was constantly pressing itself to work faster and do more at the same time. 

With a dejected sigh, your shoulder slumped down considerably as you hung your head. "Fine..."

James looked up from hanging his coat on the rack in his room, surprised at how quick you had given in.

"What, you're not going to complain?" he asked, just to be sure that he wasn't dreaming this up or anything. 

You shrugged and swirled around one more time before answering, "It's not like I have any say in this matter. He'll probably try to threaten me again if I were to go against his wishes."

James nodded at that, seeing the logic in it.

"And anyway, I can't exactly steal a case or pick a new one up in secret. He's probably got the whole thing on lockdown, just for me. Besides, I still have some work to finish."

A groan left James's throat before he could stop himself, and now it was his turn to hang his head. "I had hoped that you might have forgotten all about it..."

You quirked an eyebrow at him and shook your head. "You actually believed I would forget something? That was case-related, too? Have you gone completely mad while I was gone?"

James grinned an innocent smile and closed the door before you could say any more, sitting at his own desk to finish some paperwork as well. His workdays had become quite boring, too, with the lack of a case and your absence. 

"Have you had any contact with you-know-who?" you yelled through the door, not daring to use the proper name of who you were referring to. 

"Yes. He said he'd be around, in case you needed him. And doing his own search, too, or something like that," the door replied and you nodded to yourself again.

You swirled the chair around a few more times before opening a drawer. You frowned when you noticed that it was empty. The Chief had indeed said something about taking away all your notes for the next person to receive your case. The thought sent a shot through your stomach and you just couldn't bear to think any longer about it. That case had been yours and yours alone, and it felt so wrong that someone else would get to finish it in your stead.

Still, you wouldn't give up that easily.

Using your nails to lift what looked like the bottom of an empty drawer, a triumphant grin found its way to your face. The notes that you had hidden there, just in case, were still where they belonged. Your fingers itched to write down your new findings, especially the story that Dante had told you, so for now you left the notes where they were and pulled out a new sheet of paper.

If the Chief was going to take away your case, then he sure as Hell shouldn't expect that you were going to do what he told you, when he told you to do it. He bloody well could wait another few hours for you to fetch your paperwork from his office. You could do slow and steady if it was to annoy someone. 

You thought that as the grin turned into a smirk and you began to write your new findings down, starting with the Legendary Dark Knight named Sparda, husband of Eva, father of Vergil and Dante.

~~~~

With the way you took your time to jot down your notes - elaborating on every small detail lest you might forget what you meant while you were writing it down and making many detours of side stories that didn't actually have anything to do with the case but that you still wanted down on paper, just in case it might offer a solution later on - it indeed took you several hours before you stuffed the new stack of papers into the secret compartment of the drawer. 

The smug smile still on your face, you got up and only just then you realised that you still had your coat on. A shiver ran down your spine at the thought while you frowned at the fabric encasing your clothes. You tried to push the need to correct this error away, but it didn't work, so with a sigh you got up and made your way to the door.

Doing your pocket ritual, you left the door and walked by a confused James, who asked what had happened but didn't receive a response. You did the same with his door, and repeated it when you left the building. Once outside, you counted to ten inside your head, turned around and made your way back inside.

James didn't even look up this time when you entered again, having guessed that something had gone wrong.

Inside your own office, you let out a sigh and pulled off your coat, hanging it over the back of your chair like you should. You nodded in satisfaction before making your way back out of the office. James merely waved at you without looking up, so you didn't return the gesture. Not that you would have if he had looked up, or anything.

And then you made your way towards the Chief's office, taking as much time as you could possibly take without tripping over your feet at your own slowness. Being kind to people was a living Hell to you; you could do it if you really, really, _really_ wanted it, though most likely if you needed something. Annoying the shit out of people, on the other hand, came to you like breathing did: you didn't have to think about what you were doing, it just happened when you weren't paying attention. And when you did pay attention, it only became the sweeter and more annoying, depending on which side one was on. 

When you raised your hand to known on Chief's door, you stilled your movement when you heard voices coming from inside. Normally, you weren't one for eavesdropping, but you happened to make out that the people inside were discussing your very own case. 

Something about a raccoon problem getting out of hand, but the words that came afterwards were what surprised you most. 

"What will you have us do?" It was a voice that you couldn't recognise, but that didn't matter at the moment.

"You know what you have to do. Just make sure it stays a raccoon problem. The truth isn't supposed to be revealed, no matter the cost. Pin it on someone else if need be." That was most definitely the Chief's voice. 

You sucked in some air, not sure whether you were supposed to feel shocked or confused at the news. Or whether you had gotten it all wrong and you were jumping to conclusions.

Whatever the case, the conversation inside halted for a few moments before they continued quieter than before. You shook your head to get you out of your stupor and let your knuckles fall against the wooden door in a weak attempt to knock. 

"Ah, that must be my favourite detective, finally here to pick up her paperwork," the Chief announced, talking even louder than before. "We'll have to continue this conversation at a later point in time, understood?"

No response came and you could only hear footsteps coming towards you. In that moment, you remembered that you might have to wipe the weird look off your face and make sure you looked like you always did. Neutral. Or maybe bored? You couldn't quite remember.

You chose neutral just as the door opened, and you stepped aside to let two officers that you had never seen before leave. You eyed them, pretended it to be out of curiosity though you were filled with suspicion. After all, you had never seen these guys before, and you were pretty sure you could remember at least the face of every single person working in this building. Even the cleaning ladies.

The first one to leave had short blond hair, spiked with an obviously large amount of gel, making it almost seem shiny. He wasn't very large, only a bit taller than you were, but you saw that he certainly didn't lack in the muscles department. His pale blue eyes swept over you for a few seconds before he looked ahead of him and left without another word.

His companion had flat, black hair that barely reached his ears, where it curled a little outwards. He had dark, calculating eyes, and you almost shivered as his gaze met yours for a split second.

You always thought that you lacked emotions on the outside, but seeing the empty pits that were his eyes, you felt that you had just gotten competition in that department. 

Still, you watched him follow his buddy, noting that he could easily be far taller than anybody you had ever met until then. You tried not to connect the tiny part of a conversation you had managed to catch and their physique. If the plan formulating itself inside your head actually held a kernel of truth, you could only imagine yourself dying by the hands of those men. And you didn't believe that they did quick, painless deaths.

The Chief called you, pulling you out of your reverie as he waved you inside. "Come, I have a lot of paperwork for you to do."

You nodded and entered the office, not closing the door behind you. You didn't know why, but you felt like a seed of fear had been planted inside of you at the words you had heard. Leaving the door open seemed to give you a chance of escape if anything went wrong. 

"I imagine James has already told you my plans for-" he stopped himself and tilted his head to the side. "Say, are you alright? You look a little pale?"

You weren't sure if it was your mind playing tricks on you, but was that the corner of his mouth that twitched upwards in a smirk? You shook your head, trying to get the craziness of the whole situation out of your head when realised you had just been asked a question. 

"Eh, I mean, yes, I'm fine. Just, eh, getting used to working again. I guess." You almost kicked yourself for the abomination that sentence had been. Here you had always prided yourself in having a smart mouth and a quick brain to boot, but that might have been the worst thing you had ever said since learning how to speak. 

The Chief quirked an eyebrow, probably thinking the same thing but he shrugged it off as he handed you your humongous stack of paper. You couldn't grimace at the amount of it, though, having been captivated by the way his eyes seemed to shimmer a strange shade of purple if you looked at them just right, or the way his hands felt scaly as they touched yours.

What on Earth was going on here? 

Your heart pounded against your chest and you feared it might free itself through your skin, so you quickly nodded your head, turned on your heel and rushed out of the office to make your way towards your own. 

Only when you were inside your own room, having passed an absentminded James again on your way through his, did you allow yourself to calm yourself down. Dropping the papers to the ground in front of you after closing the door, you sank to the floor with your back against the wood of it and held your head in your hands.

What on Earth was going on here?


	10. The Things We've Seen

"So, let me get this straight," Dante began, eyes narrow as he ran your theory through his mind a few times. "You want to tell me that that Chief guy of yours is actually Atlas in hiding because you managed to overhear bits and pieces of a conversation of his?"

"And he knew details he shouldn't have known about my attack. And those bits and pieces of that conversation had been about making sure that something stays a raccoon problem, and that the truth isn't supposed to be revealed," you retorted with a sigh. "Actually, the exact words were: "Just make sure it stays"-"

Dante waved his hand around in your face, interrupting you. You had to refrain yourself from biting him, lest he might let it get to his head that he seemed to be the only person alive whose closeness you could tolerate, if only barely.

"I know what the exact words were. You've already told me, oh I dunno, thrice today. But what makes you so sure that they were talking about _your_ raccoon problem?" He stared at you, squinting his eyes even further. There was something else, and he knew it. And he knew what that was, too, but he just liked to put you on the spot. 

And you knew that, but it couldn't be that hard to figure out, going by the amused twinkle that always seemed to shine in his eyes just when he had planned something horrible for you. 

You let out a sigh, knowing you wouldn't get his full support if you didn't give him this guilty pleasure. "Because my instinct tells me this. I get goose bumps whenever I'm in his presence, something that only started since the whole Atlas ordeal... I guess his presence had never endangered me. But now it has and I can recognise it. Now go and have your laugh."

Crossing your arms and glaring at the white-haired bastard, who had started gloating at you even before you had told him he could do so, you realised how stupid this instinct bullshit was. Especially when it came from you, someone who hammered on about scientific evidence and whatnot all the time. James would be having an 'I told you so' party if he knew about this. 

" _Anyway_." You coughed to get the Devil Hunter's attention once more. "I was thinking of how I could-" 

Dante frowned at your sudden freezing, snapping his fingers in front of your eyes a few times when his calls didn't seem to reach your mind. "Don't tell me you're actually a machine and have to be wound up every so many hours to work again. Though... I have to be honest and say that it wouldn't really surprise me. And I'm insulted that you haven't told me earlier, I'd be glad to wind you up whenever you-"

The scowl you shot his way for once happened to be enough to silence him and he muttered under his breath, "Great, she has a restart button."

"He was grinning when I entered the room after hearing him say that. For what had appeared to be no reason. Ugh, why hadn't I thought of that sooner?!" you yelled, pinching yourself as though to punish you for your own dumbness. 

"Woah, woah, hadn't thought of what sooner?" Dante caught your hands in his to prevent you from hurting yourself again. 

"Don't you get it? He was grinning because he was confident in his case. It doesn't matter if I find out whether or not he's Atlas. Nobody will believe me if I claim that our boss is some demon who can change into a human! They all think I'm crazy enough as is, they're practically waiting for something like this to happen and to put me in a mental institution!"

"Okay, calm down," Dante said, still holding your hands but you hadn't seemed to notice. He shook your arms a little to try and bring you back to reality, concern filling his eyes. "All you have to do is find evidence, right? How about start with those two men you saw leaving his office?"

You shook your head. "No, that's exactly it. I don't have any evidence, and he's going to kill me before I get any, too. You were right all along, I shouldn't have gotten myself involved with these stupid raccoons."

"I have to agree with you on the fact that raccoons are horrible beasts, but believe me when I say you're not going to die. I won't let him, okay? And didn't you say something about raising suspicion if you were to die?" Dante retorted.

When he didn't get an immediate answer out of you, he shook your hands about again, which finally made you realise he was still holding them in the first place. 

Tugging yourself free from his grasp, you shook your head again. "There are many ways to kill someone while making it look like an accident. Haven't you ever watched television?"

"Hey, don't lecture me on watching television. And just don't get into situations where you can die in an accident," Dante suggested with a grin.

At that, you raised an eyebrow at him. "You mean to tell me to stay indoors all day and get James to do my grocery shopping and all? No, thank you very much."

"Or you could stay with me," Dante offered in a low voice, his grin turning his a smirk as he drew closer to you. His expression was unreadable and you could feel yourself turn red at the amount of lust that he seemed to be secreting all of a sudden. 

"Y-you mean to suggest that I live in that hole you call a home, or office, or whatever?" You almost slapped yourself at stuttering.

Dante pouted and backed away from you, feigning a hurt look. "I, for one, think it gives it a very personal and cosy feeling."

"If you mean 'personal' and 'cosy' as in, 'Hey let's do it on this couch', then I guess you've hit the nail right on the head," you shot back at him, looking rather disgusted at the image that had appeared inside your mind. Of course it had to insert _you_ and him on that dirty couch, giving you shivers of both the turned on and turned off kind. You hadn't known this guy for so long and already was he giving you such conflicted feelings. 

"I liked it better when you were all blushing and stammering. Though while you're at it, you could use that sharp tongue of yours for-"

"No! Get out!" you all but screamed at him, pointing towards your backdoor. 

"What crawled up your ass all of a sudden?" Dante retorted with a grin as he made his way out and you merely watched him go, knowing that whatever you wanted to say would only come back to bite you instead.

Once you had slammed the door closed, you rested your forehead against the wood to collect your thoughts for a few seconds. Immediately forgetting Dante's existence, your mind went back to the Chief, the hopelessness of it all washing over you. 

You couldn't tell anybody about this because they'd think you crazy. Even if you did manage to somehow find evidence for your theory... It would remain hard for the average human being to comprehend the situation. People could be stupid like that. 

But you couldn't just get up and find said evidence, which would still help you more than your silly claim could, for you had been taken off the job and that would raise suspicion. Even with a certain half-demon out there trying to help you, who knew how long it would take before Atlas killed you or you managed to catch him. 

A knock from your front door startled you and you twirled around, your heart almost in your throat just as you repeated your last thought to you. You grabbed your gun from its holster and held it behind your back before making your way to open the door. 

Fearing to see the face of the Chief, intent on getting you out of his way, relief and irritation flooded you when you saw it was Dante, instead. 

"What do you want now?" you asked him. 

Your armed hand now hung by your side and Dante eyed your gun before directing his gaze back at you. "You expecting company?"

"No, I-" 

Your snarky response was cut off as a pair of lips crashed to yours, your eyes going wide as you watched Dante watch you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulled you against him and started to probe at your shut mouth with his tongue, almost begging for entrance. 

Torn between giving in to him and staying true to your mind, you stood there, frozen, not knowing what to do. 

The situation resolved itself when, due to your inactivity, Dante gave up and pulled away. This had to count as a rejection for him, yet there was a smirk on his face when one of his fingers traced your lower lip, his expression unreadable. 

"You know, just in case you're telling the truth and your Chief wants you dead. Wouldn't want you to die without having at least kissed someone, right?" And with a wink, he disappeared again, and this time you hoped he wouldn't start knocking at your backdoor in a few minutes. 

You closed the door behind him, _again_. Having forgotten your predicament for a moment, you ran over his words a few more times, your mind incapable of pushing that look on his face away.

"I hate you, you idiot," you mumbled and touched your lips, where his had been but a few seconds ago. 

You hated how your face had turned red, how you had frozen up and had been unable to push him away, or just to kiss him back while you had the chance. Hated how you - no, your body, you wouldn't acknowledge _yourself_ enjoying such a barbaric activity - had seemed to enjoy the contact. Contact which you hadn't even thought that you would have, never thought you wanted to have, yet now you seemed to be yearning for more. 

And somehow it hurt. Your first kiss, ever, and it had seemingly been given by this guy, the only guy ever who had managed or wanted to get this close to you, because he 'didn't want you to die without at least having kissed someone'. 

But then again, he had said _at least_ kissed someone. Did that mean he was planning on going further?

You weren't sure whether you were supposed to be happy or angry, so you just settled for pressing your free hand against your eyes in an attempt to hold back the sudden tears that were trying to escape. 

Had you always felt this lonely?


	11. Reprise

A few fruitless days filled with nothing but horrid paperwork later, just before you could enter the office after having checked your pockets, James came rushing out through the front doors. You raised an eyebrow at how he was far too elated far too early in the morning, but he wouldn't wait for you to comment on it.

"C'mon Boss, Chief gave me a job for us to do and I thought you might appreciate it, with all the sitting inside you've been doing lately!" he exclaimed and gestured down the street with more energy than necessary. 

When your response was less enthusiastic than he had expected, his shoulders drooped down and he let out a long, sad sigh that made your fingers twitch in annoyance. He _knew_ you loathed it when he did that. You couldn't understand why he did it, though maybe the fact that it always seemed to work explained it... Well, bugger.

You gave him a smack up his head and with a scowl you grumbled, "Fine, fine, lead the way."

James's face brightened at your words and he grabbed the sleeve of your coat, ignoring your protests to let go in favour of dragging you down the street. 

You had to admit, though, that you were actually quite grateful for his actions. He knew just as much as you did how you hated sitting inside with nothing but a pen in your hand. You weren't meant to sit behind a desk, always too fidgety to stay still for longer than a few minutes if something didn't interest you enough. Why else had you become a detective in the first place? Why hadn't you ever bothered to check the other sides of the work as an officer of the law? Ah well, it was too late now anyway.

James led you through the city, always checking up on your wellbeing, though you had recovered most of what you had lost in the accident and could easily keep up with the young man. 

"I'm glad to see you back on your feet as usual," he commented as he rounded another corner, in the direction of the city's centre. You wondered what the two of you could possibly have to do there. 

"Yes, me too," you replied with a small smile.

You were just about to ask what the Chief had planned for the two of you when the sound of a lot of people bustling about reached your ears, together with bits and pieces of different kinds of music at the same time. You could also hear engines running and you paled at the sight before you.

"You've got to be kidding me, right?" There was no sign of your smile from a few seconds ago, all that was left was an expression of horror on your face.

Somehow, with all that had been going on lately, you had managed to forget that winter always brought that damned Christmas procession with it, every single year for as long as you could remember. 

In front of you, the whole street was filled with people doing last-minute Christmas shopping, or just regular shopping, or eating food or drinking what was most likely Glühwein, or just enjoying the atmosphere with their friends and families. Huge, decorated Christmas... wagons or whatever were slowly driving around, people milling on and about them, throwing candy at the onlookers. Some interacted with the public by ushering them into dancing with them to the many Christmas songs that were being played through each other.

"Don't tell me Chief sent us here to make sure everything goes smoothly? Like any _ordinary_ police officer would have to do?" you moaned, your hands flying up to your head to cover your ears and eyes from the sight and noise. 

If there was one thing you hated almost as much as being touched by people, it was _Christmas_ , in which touching people was often included by being forced to shake their hands, and if not worse, to _hug_ them. The forcing a smile and trying to saying 'Merry Christmas and a happy New Year' in a way that it seemed like one meant it only added to your hatred. And no, it had nothing to do with the fact that each and every year, you got to spend this so-called time of 'family and happiness' all by yourself. 

"Please don't be mad at me," James begged. An innocent grin graced his face, and combined with those puppy eyes, you were torn between hating him and loving him. He knew your dislikes more than anybody else, having listened to your complaining more often than you could even remember, so it must have taken him a lot of inner debating to pull you out here.

"I just thought you'd like to get out for once."

Or maybe not. 

Oh well, it was the thought that counted.

You let out a sigh and ran a hand through your hair. "Fine. What are our orders?"

James smiled, relief visible in his eyes. He turned away from you to face the crowd and stood on his tiptoes, using his hand to shield his eyes from any light. His gaze searched the street for what he sought... And he found it with a soft, "Aha!"

He pointed at something and you strained to see what he was gesturing at. Being shorter than he was, you failed miserably and had to let the boy lead you to your designated spot, wherever or whatever that might be. 

It ended up being the market that started just down the street. Though it broadened out there, the addition of stalls still made for a rather cramped space, with all the people and the floats walking and driving about. James informed you that the Chief had told you to make sure nothing happened, for if chaos were to break out, that could have disastrous effects in such a packed street. 

You groaned as you followed James on what he tried to call your first patrol. What was supposed to consist of watching over other citizens and making sure that everything went smoothly became looking after your own wallet and trying to not get squeezed to death by your surroundings. Throw in your general hatred of contact and one had a slightly distressed you, trying your best to keep _yourself_ from falling into inner chaos.

James's hand encasing yours seemed to be the only thing keeping you connected to your sanity and you wondered since when you had gotten this close to the man. Or since when you had become able to tolerate his touch. 

You imagined a tuff of white hair and grumbled at the memories it brought up. You were supposed to be angry with that bastard for what he had done, not thankful for all the good things he seemed to be doing for you. It didn't matter that he was checking the area for any signs of Atlas, seemingly selfless, for you were sure that someday he would come back for his payment... In whatever form suited him best. You shuddered at the thought of having to pay him with your body, but somehow you doubted that Dante was the kind of man to do that. You began to chastise yourself for your high thoughts of the half-demon, but instead opted to just concentrate on the task at hand.

Finally, James managed to find an opening in the crowd, only to realise that there was no way of maintaining order when the two of you couldn't see beyond the first layer of people surrounding the two of you. 

"We need to find some place higher," you offered him and began to look for place to do just that. You noted that you were starting to feel a little drained and were dismayed that your body remained so incapable, even days after your release.

James nodded in agreement and joined you in your search. Having that advantage of height, he soon spotted the perfect spot and tugged you along once more in the direction of one of the stalls. There, he had somehow managed to spot a stack of crates. He asked the owner of them for permission to use them, and after receiving it he started to pull some of the crates down so that you could climb on it. 

"Is it stable enough?" he asked, only letting go of the pile when you gave him a slow nod, after which he set out to make his own crate-tower. 

"Yes, this will work," you admitted with a curt nod, your eyes gliding over the bustle before you for any signs of disorder as you waited for James to join you in your height.

"Nice, two birds with one stone. We can look out _and_ have the best spots around at the same time!" he exclaimed happily, only to flail his arms around when his sudden bolt of energy sent his crates wobbling.

You rolled your eyes at his antics. "Don't you dare fall and break your neck. I am not going back to that hospital, even if it's to visit your stupid face."

Your partner stuck his tongue out at you once he had regained his balance. When he realised you weren't going to react again, he looked back at the crowd. Having created a barrier between the two of you and the rest of the world, or so it seemed, he felt a strange silence hang in the air, despite being surrounded by festivities. 

"Say..." he started, but stopped again, not sure how to ask what he wanted to know.

You hummed, signalling that you were listening to him and that he could continue. When he didn't, you averted your gaze from the celebrations to glance at James, who was staring at you in surprise. 

"What?" you asked with a frown, to which he quickly shook his head. 

"It's nothing... I just... You always hate it when I interrupt you when you're working."

"Ah," you breathed and then you shrugged, feeling that you knew what he wanted to ask you about. He was your disciple, after all, so it shouldn't be too hard for him to notice the things you noticed, too.

James shook his head to rid his mind of his own distracting thoughts and he started over. "I was just wondering how you and Dante were doing. You know, because you've changed, so I thought that maybe..."

His voice trailed off, allowing you to finish the sentence yourself. The images it conjured made your cheeks turn a bright red. Even more embarrassing, it seemed to affect your body in places that had remained dormant until then. 

You rubbed a hand over your face to hide your blush from your friend, who had already caught sight of it anyway. It made him flush, too, for he took it as a positive answer to his unasked question and he wasn't sure whether he should feel shocked or happy.

When you noticed his face through your fingers, you held up a hand to silence him before he could say anything else.

"No! It's not what you think! We haven't done anything. Well, anything like that..."

James caught himself sighing in relief, but then he eyed you suspiciously. "What do you mean with 'anything like that'? So you guys _have_ done something, haven't you?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but froze as a familiar shiver ran down your spine, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up all of a sudden. When your mind comprehended the warning, your body relaxed and allowed you to investigate the crowd thoroughly to try and apprehend the reason for your distress.

"Boss? What's wrong?" James asked, having forgotten your previous conversation once he noticed the change in your behaviour. 

Just then, you caught sight of two heads, one blond and the other black, making their way through the crowd. Their eyes casually landed on you and moved away again as though they were just taking in their surroundings, but they couldn't fool you. The fact that you saw the Chief pushing his way through the group of people just behind them, in the direction of an alley, was a dead giveaway.

"James! Stay here!" you barked at the man as you jumped off your crate.

You almost stumbled to the ground as the stack wobbled and fell over at your sudden movements, but you caught yourself at the last moment and began to force your way through the visitors as fast as you could. 

"Boss! Boss!" James's confused voice followed you until all you could hear was the chatting and laughter of strangers surrounding you. 

Another wave of panic threatened to wash you away, but you swallowed hard and squinted your eyes as you pressed on, yelling apologies and excuses all the while. You almost tripped again when you broke free, having reached the opening where floats still made their way through the streets.

You could no longer see the Chief, so the only way to determine your route was to follow the alley in which you believed him to have escaped. You had to avoid Blackie and Blondie at all costs, knowing that they would try to stop you from pursuing your boss. 

After waiting for the current float to pass, you sprinted across the road in front of the next one, ignoring the protests from angry bystanders and performers as you interrupted them. You couldn't use your police badge as a way out, feeling that you had to have a valid reason for that, and your gut feeling did not count as a valid reason. 

Before diving into the other side of people, you took a deep breath as though you were planning on literally diving into water, gasping for air whenever you managed to find an opening in the crowd. 

Standing on your toes, you managed to spot Blackie towering above the masses, though you couldn't find Blondie. You hoped it was because he happened to be much shorter than his friend, making him invisible to you. 

You didn't want the Chief to get away, so you quickly continued your journey to the other side of the street, colliding with more people as you went on. The reactions you received ranged from apologetic to irritated, but you ignored all of them as you kept going on. 

Finally, you experienced that stumble again as you freed yourself from the prison of bodies, relief washing over you when you realised that you had succeeded in reaching your destiny. You didn't give yourself enough time to properly celebrate, instead looking around immediately to pinpoint your current position. It seemed that you had pushed your way through with a slight deviation, having ended a few metres to the right of the alley.

The sight in front of you, however, made you take a step back towards your personal hell. 

Blondie stood in front of the alley, an eyebrow quirked as he stared right at you in a silent challenge. 

Without taking your eyes off him, you evaluated your situation. Behind you, there was the crowd. To your left and right were more stalls and stray people having a look at the wares, or just keeping their distance. There was another alley just two stalls further, and you tried to judge the chances of you winning in a head-on confrontation.

Negative - you did not want to use your gun so close to citizens. You were here to maintain order, not to create chaos. And your hand-to-hand skills weren't exactly fit to use against someone who looked as capable as Blondie did. 

Could you make it to the other alley, then? It could be possible. Blondie didn't know yet which course of action you were planning on taking, giving you at least a few seconds of reaction time in advance. By now, you had also already formulated the fastest path towards the alley, giving you another advantage. 

Giving up wasn't an option for you, and so you dashed off to the right, but not before noting the surprised look on Blondie's previously smug face. 

Astonished cries filled the air as you moved past people as fast as you could, sometimes pushing them out of the way if need be, hoping to create obstacles for Blondie as you did so. 

You rounded the corner around a stall, gripping the edge of the table in order to not slip and lose your course. A look over your shoulder showed that Blondie still struggled with one of the bystanders who planned on making his pursuit difficult for him. You weren't sure if he was doing so for answers as to what was going on, or if the stranger was on your side, but you were thankful nonetheless. 

Before you knew it, you had entered the alley, the darkness engulfing you as the noise from the crowd behind you faded away as though you had just stepped through a barrier to another world. It wouldn't have surprised you if this had been some kind of trap and you actually _were_ in a different world.

Without waiting for Blondie to catch up with you, you sprinted down the alley, not caring for stealth. If your theory was true and the Chief and Atlas were one and the same, you doubted you could remain undetected anyhow, so catching up with him in the first place had priority at the moment. 

Your hand found your gun before you peeked around the corner, just in case. You pulled it free and released the safety as you checked the other side, and you weren't sure whether you should be relieved or disappointed that the path was deserted. 

However, you wouldn't give up that easily, and entered one of the three new paths that opened up on the other side of the wall. You kept your eyes and ears open as you stepped down the dark road so that you were prepared for whatever might come.

A scream filled the air farther ahead of you, goose bumps appearing all over your body as the pain of it penetrated you. Fuck being prepared, you were going to rush in now.

And so you began to run again, also realising that somebody - probably Blondie - was following you. Luckily the roads split up at various points, leaving you with enough opportunities to disappear from your stalker's sight while at the same time continuing onward. 

By now, others sounds could be heard. Something, or someone, was thrashing around and squealing and you also caught what sounded like heavy breathing. That shiver ran down your body again and you wondered whether your body had been traumatised to such an extent that you could feel Atlas's presence whenever he was in the vicinity. 

But if the Chief had ran in this direction and now you were sensing Atlas, then what could that possibly mean? 

Turning one more corner, you halted, a shocked breath escaping your throat as you laid eyes upon the sight before you.


	12. For the Fire

Turning one more corner, you halted, a shocked breath escaping your throat as you laid eyes upon the sight before you.

Atlas's disgusting body was hovering over a young woman. You couldn't tell whether she was conscious or not, or even still alive, though that didn't make the frightful stare that she seemed to be directing towards you any better.

"You motherfucker..." you growled, and without waiting a moment longer, you raised your gun and shot at the monster, anger flowing through you. 

The beast yowled in pain and turned to look at you, not having sensed your approach any earlier. The corners of its mouth turned down in a grimace and you bet that if it could, it would have frowned. 

"It's you...!" it yelled and tried to change its angle to face you. Unfortunately for Atlas, its body happened to be a bit too big for this narrow alley, unable to turn around. 

You noticed the blood dripping down its chin and scanned the unmoving body beneath it for any signs of bite marks. A pair of arms from behind you interrupted you as they wrapped themselves around your shoulders, a foreign smell infiltrating your nose as, from the corner of your eye, you noticed blond hair.

Cursing softly, you struggled to free yourself, only for Blondie to tighten his hold on you, forcing you to stay still and, unfortunately for him, giving you the opportunity to calm down and rethink the situation. Realising that your hand with your gun had free range, the corners of your mouth twitched upwards and you wondered whether Blackie was both the brawl _and_ the brains of their team. 

While Blondie was still none the wiser of your plan, you aimed your weapon slightly behind you and pulled the trigger. You winced as the recoil seemed worse than usual because your arm refused to move with the flow, with Blondie hugging you from behind. 

The man yelled out in pain and released you as a bullet buried itself into his foot. 

You ran off in the direction of one of the other paths that began in this alley, but not without throwing in a few more gunshots aimed towards Atlas, who had almost managed to turn around by now. Your finger kept pulling back the trigger until it gave a click, after which you flew into an opening.

More yelling and screaming came from behind you, but you didn't actively listen to it as you quickly reloaded your gun with some new ammo. You took in your surroundings as you did so, noting this road was just as narrow, if not more so, than the previous one. That would aid you in this stupid battle you had begun with the demon, knowing fully well you would never win like this. Especially not with Blondie thrown into the mix.

You rounded the corner at the end and took a few steps until another gap opened up, leading back into the direction from which you had just come from, the pathway that had been closest to Atlas. There, you stood and listened for a while, trying to gather what the others were up to. 

That wasn't such a difficult task, with both of them shouting loudly at each other. Was Blondie a demon, too? Like Atlas? Why else would they have what seemed like such a comradery? That meant that Blackie, too, was one. If he were to join this fight, then it was sure to be a quick death for you. 

Still, you weren't planning on going down easily. 

Atlas tried to quiet down, but it was impossible not to hear the sound of his sides scraping against the walls as it made its way towards you. Blondie, on the other hand, had the advantage here, and you knew that he wouldn't make the same mistake twice. 

Raising your gun in the direction of the scraping, you pulled the trigger two more times. Without waiting to listen if you had hit your mark, you jumped up and jogged back to one of the other paths to try and discern Blondie's position. You were in luck, or so it seemed, and you heard soft muttering and cursing coming from this alley, and so you chose the third and final pathway to sneak back to where you had first seen Atlas, thankful for the lack of snow. 

Once there, you kneeled down next to the unfamiliar woman, whose eyes were now closed. Two fingers pressed against her neck proved that she was still alive, and you also had the chance to check over her body for any wounds. A small puddle of blood lay under her and quickly you found that she had lost half her arm.

Your stomach churned at the idea of it having been _eaten_ by Atlas, but what else was there to think? It was then that you also realised that having come back hadn't been such a good idea. You should have led the two of them away from her. 

Sudden movement behind you proved that you were already too late, and before you knew it, pain erupted in your side and it was only then that you realised a gun had been shot behind you.

Pressing a hand against your side, you watched the blood flow from between your fingers and wondered whether the bullet was stuck in you, or had just barely grazed you; you couldn't think properly at the moment. Then you turned around to glare at the perpetrator, finding Blackie had caught up with his friends.

You growled and clenched your teeth together when you heard more commotion up ahead. It wouldn't take long until Atlas and Blondie made their way back to you.

So you grabbed your gun and fired behind you just as you got to your feet. When you were standing again, you pulled the trigger again, and once more before you disappeared into the alley which you had already established to be empty. 

None of your bullets had hit the man, but at least it had given you the opening you needed to get away from there. You felt horrible for leaving the woman behind, but you thought that you were the only one who knew the truth about Atlas. If you were to die, only more people would die. And anyway, maybe they would be too busy catching you to feast upon her body. 

This time, you didn't allow yourself the time for stealth. They knew which way you had gone, and the blood trail you were leaving behind would give you away anyway, so you opted for speed instead. 

That didn't go too well, though, and at the end of the way you had to lean against a wall to regain your breath, your head swimming from the sudden blood loss. You pinched yourself to stay focussed and pushed yourself on, entering the final alley that would lead out of this maze, judging by the dim light you could see at the end. 

Your feet were accompanied by the shaking of the floor as Atlas, who seemed to have recovered from most of its wounds, pursued you, Blackie and Blondie probably not far behind. 

Once more in the open, you were surprised to see that the street was completely deserted, all the attention in the main street. You had only gotten farther away from the busy streets by using the alleys, after all.

Instead of making for the other side of the road to create some distance between you and Atlas, you chose to hide behind the corner instead. The other side of the street was filled with buildings, there were no gaps through which you could escape, and the only other ways to get away were to just run through the streets. That didn't seem like such a great idea with a huge demon following you.

It didn't take long for the tremors in the floor to reach your position. You closed your eyes, saying some last words and all that crap as you believed that this might well be your final moment alive. 

You held your gun so that you were aiming at the entrance of the darkness, your finger on the trigger and ready to pull at the first sight of Atlas's horrible head. 

One of its paws became visible and landed just before you, a jolt running through your body as it slammed onto the ground. You couldn't hear anything else and guessed that Blackie and Blondie had been given the order to back down and leave you to Atlas itself.

Its head finally left the dark alley. First its nose, then its grinning mouth with its deadly teeth. Just before you could see the cloth over its eyes, and so just before it could see you, you fired your gun at it in fast succession, emptying it in one go. 

Atlas yelled again and thrashed around, its tail hitting the sides of the wall in its throes of pain. It shook its head about and you jumped back just in time to dodge a paw it swatted in your direction. You had learned from your previous encounter, but mainly you had just blinded his eye with a bullet. 

Using that to your advantage, you once more created a distance between the two of you while you reloaded your gun at the same time. You were running out of ammo and hadn't inflicted any lethal damage - you were going to have to make every shot count from now on.

But then again, how were you supposed to do that when you did not even know its weak points? It looked as though it didn't _have_ any in the first place, and you didn't have enough bullets to experiment. 

"Will you stop shooting at me!" Atlas barked at you and freed itself from the narrow path it had almost gotten stuck in.

The sight of its tail gave you hope. Trails of its own blood were joining in with what you now presumed to be poison, dripping to the floor as one. So it wasn't invulnerable after all. 

"Only when you stop killing innocent people and eating them," you replied, frustrated at the predicament you had gotten yourself in once more.

By now, you were standing at the other side of the road, having decided to go down that route anyway. You didn't want any people straying from the parade to have to meet Atlas, which would most likely end in their deaths, and so you didn't really have any other options. All your hope rested on your final clip of ammo.

"You know, you're very stubborn for a human," Atlas commented and tilted its head to the side. Its covered eyes held you back from reading its emotions, leaving you hanging in the dark a little about how it meant its statement. 

"Really? I always thought that stubbornness was some kind of normal human trait that everyone has," you replied anyway.

Atlas shook its head from side to side. It didn't look like a 'no' and so you interpreted it as a shrug as it continued, "Maybe. But a normal human trait is also that they die when you want them to. You, you keep escaping..."

You scoffed at that. "You say that as though we have had many more encounters than just these two."

"Well, if you're used to your prey dying before encountering you even once, meeting someone for the second time is a rather special occasion," it shot back, growing slightly frustrated at the thought of having to meet you a third time. 

"Whatever," you then said, deciding that this confrontation had been going on for too long.

You raised your gun one final time, and Atlas even had the nerve to tilt its head to the side again, almost waiting for you to do your thing. It wouldn't have been any worse had Atlas started laughing at you and broadened itself to make it easier to hit it. 

In your fury, you first aimed for its other eye, effectively taking that out as well. Atlas yelled, but otherwise remained still. This was obviously a challenge, and you knew you were going to lose it.

Another gunshot rang out. A bullet buried itself in its chest, which was quickly followed by one more exactly next to it.

And so you carried on, frustrated by the lack of defeat Atlas showed you. Sweat dripped down your temple at the combination of tiredness, pain and ire burning inside of you. Where was the justice in this? Weren't the good guys supposed to prevail? Then why were you obviously on the losing side right now?

"Are you done yet?" Atlas chuckled when your weapon stopped firing shots, the last round having been fired. 

It didn't wait for an answer from you, instead going in straight for the kill. The blood loss made your brain function slower than it should, and in an almost sluggish manner you looked left and right, trying to find a way to get out. Trying to escape wouldn't work, your feet refusing to move in fear of collapsing if you did so. 

So you did all your mind could conjure in that moment. You bent down and then straightened your back again, revealing a knife you always kept in your boot. With knife you meant a switchblade, and as you unfolded it and held it out in front of you in a defensive manner, you were thankful for the fact that Atlas couldn't see the uncertain doom to which it was rushing. 

When it got close enough, you would stick your hand into its mouth and try to stab it somewhere inside. 

That had been your original plan, at least. 

But suddenly, red blocked your vision, and you took that cursed step backwards in surprise. Your knee buckled and you crashed to the ground, shaking all over now that your concentration had been broken. 

"You really are more trouble than you're worth, do you know that?" the voice which you had come to loathe yet long for in such a short period of time spoke.

Your heart clenched painfully at his words, and you weren't sure if you were happy because he had gone through all that trouble to save you again, or if you were devastated at how he seemed to consider you unworthy of his energy. Maybe you should just be grateful that you were once more going to be saved, but you really couldn't stop despising yourself because you kept needed to be saved.

"Then why don't you just leave me be?" you whispered, not expecting Dante to hear your words. 

He did hear them, though he didn't react as Atlas clashed against his sword. The demon began to curse at the devil hunter for arriving so suddenly and taking its meal from it, again. 

"Stop meddling with my affairs, you bastard!" Atlas spat and jumped back a few paces, brandishing its wounded tail as it did so. 

"Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you? I'm a man, I understand the need to eat in peace, but maybe you should search something more of your own size," Dante retorted before holding his hand before his mouth in a fake gasp. "Oh, don't tell me, all of those are far too powerful for you to fight?" 

Atlas chuckled at Dante's taunts and shook its head, but didn't reply. 

When it didn't move, instead waiting for Dante to make the next move, the half-demon sighed and replaced his sword on his back before pulling out two guns from their holsters in a far too showy fashion. 

"Have it your way," he said and began to shoot at the demon without giving it a chance to react. 

Atlas grunted and tried to get out of the way, but wherever it went, Dante repositioned himself and the bullets followed it. 

When it seemed that it had had enough, it lifted its head and opened its mouth in what looked like a silent cry. No sound came and Dante looked around in confusion, wondering what the meaning of Atlas's move had been. 

That became obvious quite soon when he shifted his two guns from aiming only at Atlas, to aiming at both Atlas and a movement somewhere to his side. 

You saw Blondie appear, the wound in his foot already gone, which was why the man now managed to dodge all the shots with ease. And after all, Dante had to concentrate on two moving targets at the same time while making sure nothing happened to you, still sitting on the ground behind him. 

"Do you... do you have any ammo on you that I can use?" you mumbled once you started feeling guilty for causing such trouble for the man trying to protect you. 

"Check my pocket," was all he said as he turned his body slightly so that one of his pockets was turned to you. 

Having lost too much blood to blush, you reached in and pulled out whatever you could find, letting out a sigh of relief when you realised that, somehow, it was exactly what you needed.

"Why..." you wanted to ask, but Dante shushed you before you could finish your question. 

You shrugged and reloaded your gun. Then you looked up and wondered which enemy you should target, with Blondie being too fast for Dante's rain of bullets but Atlas seeming too menacing to just let him be. As though sensing your dilemma, Dante now turned to the other side, indicating for you to reach into that pocket as well.

"What...?" you began, but you stopped yourself when you felt your hand touch the familiar and cool metal of a gun.

With a frown you pulled out a brand new weapon from his pocket, and without wondering why or how Dante could run around town while being so packed, you checked the ammo and were happy to find it full.

"You do know how to dual wield, right?" Dante asked, his frown visible in his voice. 

At that, you let out a laugh as you lifted both guns at the same time, trying to get the feel of the new arrival while ignoring the tremble of your arms. "Who do you think I am?"

And with that, as though some silent pact had been made between the two of you, Dante shifted his aim from Blondie back to Atlas. At the exact same time, you began to fire both weapons at Blondie, who had a harder time dodging two sprays of bullets and was forced to keep his distance after all. 

Atlas noticed the added disadvantage they had gotten by the adding of two guns and it let out a yowl, calling the retreat. Blondie disappeared with a few bounds, while Atlas ran down the street to find itself a place to regenerate and turn into human shape. 

"Next time will be the last!" it yelled before vanishing around a corner. 

"I sure hope so! I couldn't stand to see your ugly face any more!" Dante called after it, but the lack of response indicated that Atlas could no longer hear them. Or chose to ignore the insult.

A sigh from you as you dropped the guns to the ground to lean forward reminded him of your presence, and soon he kneeled down next to you.

"You're wounded," he stated, which got him a sore look from you.

"Thank you for informing me of this, Captain Obvious. I had not yet noticed it," you shot back at him as you pressed a hand against your side with a wince. You had managed to ignore it with the threat of the demon hovering above you, but now that Atlas was gone, the weight of it all came crashing down on you.

"Excuse me, I was a little busy trying to keep you alive," he offered with an apologetic smile. "Plus, you managed to handle yourself so well, I hadn't thought to check up on you."

You shook your head, dismissing the subject. "Not important right now. We need to get back to..."

Dante interrupted you by holding up a hand before he handed you your guns and picked you up with ease.

"Wha-!" you began to exclaim, but the half-demon cut you off once more.

"James is on it, don't worry. I'm taking you back to my place, it's closer than your house. Just try to keep pressure on it while we're on our way," he then helpfully informed you before trotting off, not waiting to listen to your protests.


	13. Past Futures

You kept pressing your hands against your wound. You had been lucky, for the bleeding seemed to have stopped for the most part and you had been even luckier that you had only been grazed by the bullet. Your eyes were directed up at the grey sky, for once unaware of your surroundings as Dante carried on.

That was the effect his mere presence could have on you; you felt safe enough to let your guard down now that you were in his arms. After all, you probably knew better than anyone out there what this man was capable of, and you trusted him capable enough to keep an eye on the situation around you for a while. Though if anyone were to ask, you would just blame it on the sudden blood loss. 

Somewhere along the way, the clouds high above let loose a torrent of snow, no longer even bothering with the usual gradual build-up and instead just dumping all of it had in one go. Your head hung over the edge of Dante’s arm, causing you to see everything upside down, cold flakes attacking your eyes every now and then. 

"How did you know where I was?" you asked all of a sudden, your voice raspy from disuse but you didn’t feel like clearing your throat. 

Dante spared you a quick glance before looking in front of him again, needing his concentration to not slip on the fresh layer of snow that covered the ground and continued to grow as he went on. “The noises that demon made because of you were pretty hard to ignore if one wasn’t busy attending that nonsense in the main street. Though I’ve got to say, you did a pretty good job.”

“Don’t tell me that you of all people hate Christmas, too?” you inquired in surprise. You had planned on ignoring his last comment, still being angry with yourself that you hadn’t been able to handle _all_ of it on your own, but you couldn’t help yourself. “Is it even possible to take care of those things without being at least a half demon?”

He nodded, his white hair moving in front of his eyes as he did so, making his face almost unreadable. “Of course it is. I even have a friend who can take care of herself and who is probably a hundred percent human. I think.”

Then he shrugged and lifted your upper body a little, your face becoming squashed against his shoulder as he scratched his cheek before adding, “And well, with my job, or whatever you wanna call it, Christmas is rarely the happy family time that it’s made out to be. Why does that surprise you?”

“J-just…” You quickly looked back at the sky when he tilted his head so that he could see you again. “I thought you were the type to enjoy Christmas. Go out, have fun with friends, that kind of thing?”

The half-demon let out a bark of laughter at that, the image too strange for him to comprehend. "I doubt you can call what I usually do ‘having fun with friends’."

You scowled at him, disgust filling you as you saw him sitting in a dirty strip club, half-naked - if not completely naked - women dancing in manners that men for some reason found attractive. 

Dante laughed at the face you made and you could feel the deep rumble in his chest as he held you close. The sudden movement pinned your attention to the area and you could feel his heart beating against your arm, your mind only now realising the closeness the two of you were sharing. 

Silence hung in the air and you were left with your thoughts once more. Why, _why_ could you accept and tolerate this touch, even though he was probably the most dangerous person you knew? He could fight Atlas without breaking a sweat, could jump insanely high and you were sure he could move much faster than any normal human. Only now were you beginning to understand the extent of his demon side and you knew that if he wanted, he could snap your body in half with the flick of a finger. 

And still you continued to be pulled in by him, the least logical person you were supposed to be attracted to.

No longer wanting to continue this train of thought, your mouth blurted out, "Let’s spend this Christmas together, then."

"Huh?" was the intelligent sound Dante made as he looked down at you, visibly surprised. "Did you just say what I think you said?"

"I didn't say anything. You're starting to hear things."

His lips turned into a smirk. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me." 

"W-what secret?" you stammered in surprise.

"That you have _feelings_ ," he responded and he wiggled with his eyebrows, which made you burst into laughter.

Dante looked taken aback at your outburst, which only added to your mirth. Once you had started you could no longer stop yourself. You kept on laughing until you were gasping for air and clutching your sides, begging to stop because the pain it caused in your wound almost made you cry.

Now it was Dante's turn to laugh and you glowered at him just as he began to walk up the steps to his shop. Completely forgetting the predicament you had found yourself in a few seconds ago, you were surprised by how sudden your arrival at his shop was. Only then did you begin to ask yourself why he hadn't just dropped you off at the hospital again. 

A groan left your throat as the two of you entered the main room when you remembered the horrible interior. 

"Hey, at least it looks _natural_ ," Dante retorted as he dropped you on his couch, where you tried to make yourself as small as possible so as to minimise the surface of contact between your skin and the material. "And there's nothing wrong with my sofa!"

You ignored him and continued to lay in a scrunched up ball, making a point of ignoring the pain coming from your side. Punishment for being such a weak bastard, that's how you regarded it and so you weren't planning on relieving your body any time soon.

Dante, however, had other plans as his hands took hold of your head and your knees, and he pushed you down so that you were lying flat on your back. When you tried to reposition yourself, he sent you a playful glare and disappeared from your view. You could hear him rummage through things from behind the sofa while you stared at the ceiling, following the cracks between the wooden planks with your eyes as you waited for him to return.

"Take off your shirt. Or roll it up, or whatever," came the command from the other side of the room and you did as he asked of you.

Lifting your upper body from the couch with one arm, you pulled your coat off with the other and shoved it onto the ground before dumping your shirt with it, leaving you in only your bra. The cool air pricked against your skin, and most notably against the gash in your side, causing you to suck in a gasp of breath.

It didn't take much longer before Dante was kneeling down next to the settee, a first aid kit on the ground beside him, from which he pulled several things he'd be needing. You saw he had also grabbed a bottle of alcohol, and you let out another groan, already feeling it burn against your wound. 

"You're the one always getting in trouble. You should expect these kinds of things when you go out there to fight in the name of justice," Dante shot at you, raising an eyebrow at your childish reaction as he began to clean your wound with care, moving slowly. 

"Oh, don't worry, this isn't the first time I've been shot. I've still got a few new bullets inside of me, too. But normally I fight against... well, humans. I think." You let out a sigh as you inspected your hands, clenching and unclenching them several times. "Can I learn? To kill demons, I mean?"

"The guns I use are... well, special, so they work better than normal guns. I could make yours..." He trailed off, shook his head and added, "And the friend I mentioned, Lady, she uses a rocket launcher with a bayonet. Real powerful shit. Fired it at me once, too." 

"You can make my guns what?" you asked him, ignoring what he had said after that. Why was he being vague all of a sudden? His attempt to distract you with humour, the uneasiness that had crept in his way of moving, the way he didn't look you in the eye as he unscrewed the bottle of alcohol... Something was wrong.

"Never mind," Dante replied in a sour tone just as he dabbed a piece of cotton he had drenched in alcohol around your wound. 

In a combination of surprise and pain, you let out a yell. Throwing your head back and clenching your teeth together, your hand shot out and found purchase on his leg. You squeezed the muscles there to the point of your digits hurting, too, but at least it was something you could concentrate on. 

When he was almost finished with his dabbing, you slapped his hand away, setting the cotton ball he had been holding soaring through the air. He gave you a look of surprise, which only became even more surprised as you rocked yourself back a little before launching your leg at him. He managed to throw his arms up just in time to catch it, but it seemed he hadn't expected much power from your weakened state and so you pushed him over. You followed your leg and pushed yourself off the couch and onto Dante, which resulted in him lying on his back on the floor and you sitting on top of him, straddling his torso and ignoring the pain in your side.

Dante looked up at you with a frown, his blue eyes showing you his annoyance. "You do know I could have snapped your leg if I hadn't been careful?"

With your mind having been cleared from all the adrenaline and whatnot from the fight, that was all you had needed and the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. It also meant that you were going to have to admit a failure on your part. 

"...I was wrong about you," you stated and watched as the anger in his eyes melted away and was replaced by confusion.

"How so?" he murmured, proving a sudden change in his behaviour towards you. Even you yourself could think of a dozen dirty jokes to answer your statement with the position the two of you were in. 

You hadn't pushed him over because he hadn't expected the force you could put behind your kick. He had just held himself back so immensely that he hadn't been able to provide any resistance against your moves.

His hands, that had settled themselves on your legs, shook you a little to encourage you to elaborate. 

Examining his reactions, you obliged, "At first I had thought that you were quite comfortable with yourself, to which conclusion I had come when you casually confessed that you weren't completely human..." 

His expression went from confused to unreadable within seconds of your utterance. Trying to hide himself from you, you guessed. It pained you to see him like this. Surprised, even, to witness a moment of his so vulnerable as this... Or surprised about your own reactions to his? 

You leaned forward a little before continuing, "But now I see it. You're not comfortable with what you are at all... On the contrary, you _hate_ yourself. You're afraid of your own capabilities, afraid that you've just been lucky until now and that someday, something might happen and you could hurt, maybe even kill one of your loved ones. You want to be a normal human being, like the rest of us boring humans. Yet at the same time, you enjoy fighting and can't seem to get enough of it."

Dante had watched you throughout your analysis, not opening his mouth to interrupt you once. You still couldn't judge what his thoughts might be and so you weren't sure whether you were actually right. Surprised, you noted that you had _never_ doubted yourself when it came to deducing before. 

"You confu-"

You had wanted to confess your feelings to him, but Dante felt that now you had spoken too much. 

His hand had found its way to the back of your head before you had realised what was going on, and so he crashed your lips against his own while your mind was still stuck halfway your sentence. Your mouth was, too, and the devil hunter took the opportunity to slip his tongue past your defences.

For the first time in your life, your mind went blank as your body took control of the situation, all the while ignoring the stinging of your wound. 

And so you kissed him back.

Surprised by your silent token of acceptance, Dante leaned up a little, his arms moving behind him to prop himself on his elbows. You ran your hands through his hair as he did so and, despite not knowing what you were supposed to do, pressed your chest against his for more contact. 

He growled lowly, one of his arms encircling your waist with care to pull you even closer. All the while, his tongue kept dancing with yours. Occasionally, he nipped at you, teeth grazing your lips.

When all of a sudden, in the heat of the moment, a soft moan left your throat, you froze on the spot. The sound of it managed to penetrate the walls your body had put up around your self, keeping you from the control panels of your own limbs. Your eyes snapped open to stare at the man lying beneath you, who had noticed the change in behaviour and had pulled back to watch you, to investigate the feelings you held inside. 

It had seemed that he had put up a wall of his own as well, holding you back and stopping you from reading him. The feeling of having been locked out saddened you for some reason. You frowned in frustration and let out a sigh as you ran a finger down his chest, absentminded. 

"Why do you do this?" you murmured, your eyes not leaving your wandering digit.

"Do what?" Dante inquired in an equally soft tone.

Realising that the moment was over for good, he lifted you back onto your previous spot on the couch before resuming his taking care of you. With the wound having been disinfected, all he had to do was cover it. As if you hadn't seen enough dressings lately. 

As he did so, you made a vague gesture with your hands, trying to refer to the two of you with a single movement. "This. Everything."

The man before you let out a chuckle, but you could tell that it was a defensive manoeuvre to buy him some more time while he tried to find a way to talk himself out of this.

"You're going to have to be a bit more specific than that, sweetheart." Or maybe he just really didn't know what you meant. 

You let the term of endearment pass by you, knowing that by now, he only used them to taunt you. If you didn't react to them for long enough, maybe he would drop them all by himself. Instead, you tried to think of a way to explain what you meant with 'everything'. 

After a few moments of silence, you let out an angered growl; annoyed with yourself for not being able to sum your thoughts up in a simple sentence. "You're... you're so confusing. You taunt me, do things like... like kiss me all of a sudden, though you probably don't mean anything by it. And it's _working_ , somehow. I..." 

You trailed off, not even wanting to go down the path of confessing these new and disturbing feelings inside of you. Dante let you talk, didn't even ask for you to elaborate. He sat by your side, taking his sweet time in patching you up as he waited for you to continue.

"You even managed to put me on a false path, too. Making me, no, making us all believe that you have no trouble in the world. That you're confident in everything about you, that others can shove their opinions up their asses... But you're not."

Now, the white-haired man opened his mouth to protest, but you pressed a finger to his lips. "Don't lie to me. You can no longer lie to me, understood? But... why? What is it that you fear? Yourself? Us pathetic humans? And even then... why me? Why do you constantly follow me around, of all the people you could choose from?" 

A smile appeared on Dante's face just as he finished his job. You noticed it in the split second before he turned away from you and sat on the ground before you, back facing you. 

"You're asking me all these questions, but can't I say the exact same to you? You hate Christmas and I presume it's because you're lonely. I don't just follow you around, you _enjoy_ it as well. Yet with an attitude like that, one would think you hate people more than anything. But here you are, getting all cosy with some weird geezer you've met but a few weeks ago, who's as much of an outcast as you are."

Your mouth fell open at his analysis and you weren't sure whether you were supposed to feel violated or surprised at the amount of information he had managed to gather by watching you. He shot you a look over his shoulder, reached out with his arm and closed your mouth for you before grinning.

"I can do a bit of 'detectiveing', too, if I want to. And even though you act all cool and sexy and confident, the fact that you're thinking that you're not good enough for my attention proves the opposite. Do you really want to know why I 'chose' you?"

As he spoke, he turned the rest of his body around as well. He crawled closer to you and planted his hands next to your sides on the sofa. Then, you watched him continue moving towards you and you went along with him until your back was pressed against a dirty cushion and his nose almost touched yours. 

"Because you're different, just like me. You didn't scream and run when I told you of my... ancestry, you didn't break down at the sight of the Atlas. No, you actually decided to _fight_ it, which, in my opinion, is totally insane, but nobody's perfect. You think you're so cold and distant from the rest of us, but deep down you're yearning for someone to come and sweep you off your feet..."

Somewhere along the line, you started to wonder why your questioning him had turned into him analysing your mind, summarising your life in a few simple words. The feelings that had been new and disturbing moments ago had received their proper names, and you realised what you had to do. 

"You're right. All this began as just something that wasn't really all that important to me, just helping people in need as always..."

You had to stop this, whatever _this_ was, before it got out of control. It wasn't love yet, but love always ended in heartbreak. Your parents rejecting the love you had offered them had broken your heart. The death of your grandfather, the only person who had accepted your love, had broken your heart. This man would surely break your heart as well.

"But now-"

"BOSS!" 

The door to Devil May Cry flew open, and in crashed James, breathing heavily. He had probably ran all the way through the city to find this place from the hospital, or wherever he had gone with Atlas's survived victim. 

The poor boy stopped in his tracks when he saw the scene before him: you, half-naked, pressed against the back of the couch while Dante almost sat on top of you, though still fully clothed. He reacted accordingly, his face turning bright red as he faced the other way and held a hand over his eyes.

"S-s-s-sorry for interrupting!" he squeaked. 

Avoiding eye contact with the devil hunter, you pushed him off you and quickly fetched your shirt again. 

"Sorry for that, James. Dante was just helping me with my wound," you replied as you pulled your clothes back on. 

"Wound? You were hurt?" James asked and came closer to make sure you were doing okay.

"It's fine. Got grazed by a bullet." To prove your point, you lifted your shirt just enough for him to see the small patch covering your side. 

"Ah, okay," was all that James said to that.

A silence filled the air afterwards, with James exchanging looks between you and Dante, back at you, back at Dante... Until you let out a sigh and grabbed your coat and your gun that had been placed on his desk. 

"Take the other one too," Dante spoke up as he pointed towards the one he had offered you in the previous fight.

You stared at him for a few moments before shrugging and grabbing the other one too. "All right, let's go then."

Dante saw the dent the doorknob had put into the wall from James's throw once you closed it behind the two of you. He sighed and ran a hand over his face, letting himself sink onto the couch, cursing at himself all the while.


	14. My Sunset

That night was spent with just as little sleep as usual. You ran your mind over the conversation you had with James on your way home, how he had told you that you had probably saved that girl's life and that she was doing fine, or at least as fine as she could be doing after having had her arm... well, eaten. James had told you that, once awake, she had gone into shock, but he had managed to calm her down. Apparently she had asked him to stay with her for a while, which is why it had taken him so long to get to Dante's place.

James had told you that her name was Zoe. Somehow you had felt touched by the fact that you finally had gotten the name of one of Atlas's victims. You had vowed that this was only the first, and that you wouldn't let another unnamed one pass you by. 

Your partner had then proceeded to talk about everything and nothing. It was rather obvious that he did not want to touch the subject of what you and Dante had been doing before he interrupted the two of you. And even then, the thought of that stupid, white-haired, arrogant, confusing... bastard kept invading your mind, your attention drifting elsewhere multiple times during your conversation. 

Your attention _never_ drifted elsewhere when you were talking about a case. What had happened to you? 

And so here you lay, pressing your hands against your head in a feeble attempt to rid your mind of the images that barged in without knocking first. In between your fits of despair came even worse thoughts, thoughts of what the Chief was going to do or say to you the next morning.

After all, you had disobeyed a direct order, and probably even in his very own presence. But even now, there was no way for you to prove your claims. You had seen the Chief disappear into an alley during the busy Christmas fair, only to meet a demon? You could already hear your colleagues laughing, believing you to be delirious. 

With every passing minute, your worry grew until all you could see was Dante's face and a mix of those of your Chief and Atlas, whether you closed your eyes or opened them. This had to stop! 

You would cut all ties with the half-demon. It was for the best, or so you believed. You weren't cut out to have a relationship, and though Dante might not think so himself, he deserved something better than you.

And Atlas - or Chief - would never go away, even with evidence. Nobody was going to believe you. You were going to have to take matters into own hands and kill him, or it, with your own hands. 

Thus came the end of the night, and though you had planned every single step you were to take in the next few weeks, you hadn't gotten any sleep in return.

~~~~

"You what?" 

"You _what_?" 

You stared at the Chief for a while, who was sitting at his desk and staring at you in disbelief. Then you slowly turned your gaze towards James, who stood beside you and was gaping at you as well, before you repeated yourself.

"I quit. It's easy really, if you listen for once."

A hurt look crossed your partner's - or should you say ex-partner? - face while the Chief turned red in anger.

You were standing in his office because he had called you to meet him. You knew exactly what he had planned on doing; he had probably wanted to yell at you that you had gone against his own words, punish you, fire you, something like that... But you had decided to take matters into your own hands. 

This wasn't just simply about the case. It wasn't even 'just' your case any longer. It was a case that nobody should be supposed to handle and you knew that you were the only one around who could see it to the end in a proper manner, in a way that you could be sure that justice had been served. Atlas's henchmen be damned.

The fact that James shook his head and strode out of the room without sparing you a glance didn't matter to you, at least not in that moment. Indirectly, you were doing it for him, too. He was a good boy, still had a real chance at a proper life in this world. You wouldn't want to see it all come to an end because of your incompetence. 

Chief ground his teeth together as he glared at you, hands clenched into tight fists and he held himself back from spitting whatever obscenities lay on the tip of his tongue. Not that they would ever reach you, even if he loosed them at you. 

"Will that be all?" you inquired, taking on an almost polite tone as though you had just concluded a business meeting and wished to move on from the topic. 

Your boss sucked in a deep breath and made a movement with his hand that was supposed to shoo you away. Gladly accepting the permission to leave - not that you would have let him stop you or anything - you turned and left without another word. 

When you coincidentally bumped into Blondie and Blackie after exiting the room, you couldn't help but feel a little anxious to leave this building and prepare yourself for your oncoming mission. Without a doubt, Chief-no, _Atlas_ , would send them after you as soon as possible, knowing that whatever danger you had been to him before would only grow with the freedom of him not breathing down your neck as his boss. He had presumed that your loyalty to your job and partner would have been enough to keep you here, but apparently he had misjudged you. 

When you passed the door to James's office on your way to the front door, you couldn't help but pause. For a split second, you wondered whether you were supposed to explain your motives to one of the two people you just might trust with your life. In the end, you had decided against it, believing it would only put the man in danger if Atlas were to try and use his connection with you against you. 

He was a big boy now and you had trained him well. You knew he would be able to go on without you, whether permanently or not. You only regretted having to part with him in such a rough manner; no goodbyes, no 'Why?', no 'I'm sorry'. He wouldn't understand it anyway, would probably call you insane and driven, would claim that you had to let go of this case. That you weren't perfect and that it wasn't something to be embarrassed of to lose a case like this.

A sad smile graced your face and you couldn't help but feel tears prickling in your eyes as you continued your way outside. Of course you weren't perfect, you knew that more than anybody else. Hated yourself more than anybody else for it, too. It only showed how good you were at hiding it. 

For this one time, you didn't bother with your rituals as you left the office for what seemed to be the last time and it almost felt like you could hear a page being turned over as the doors closed behind you. This wasn't just the end of a chapter, it was also the beginning of a new one. The start of a new day; your sunrise. But first, you would have to endure the sunset before.

~~~~

It was dusty in the spare room you had upstairs, the one filled with memories that seemed to belong to some version of you some lifetimes ago. It was almost as though you had stepped through a portal into a time long gone, the dust being the only thing keeping you in the present. 

You found an old mirror that had once belonged to your grandmother. Your grandfather had given it to you after her death, finding it had held too many of her memories for him to keep. You had only accepted it out of politeness, not wanting to go against the wishes of a man who had just lost the most important person in his life. 

Despite never having put it somewhere in the other rooms, you had always found it beautiful, though a little creepy. Death had always been a concept that had confused you, and seeing that mirror always brought back the thoughts you had had a lot around the time of your grandmother's death. 

It was old, much older than you yourself were, but that only seemed to make it all the more enchanting. The frame of the mirror made it look like it belonged in the Victorian Age instead of the Twenty-First Century. 

Wiping a hand over the surface of the mirror itself, you were surprised to catch a glimpse of your own eyes under all the dust. Since when had they started to look so old and uneasy?

You cleaned more dust away and found that your gaze jumped to and fro, investigating your own face as though you were looking at a stranger you hadn't met before. Or maybe reuniting with an old friend whom you hadn't seen in years? You looked tired, the bags under your eyes proof of your sleepless nights and the unusual thinness of your face reminding you of how long it had been since you had just sat down to have a proper meal. 

Shaking your head, you quickly turned away from your own image, ashamed and shy all of a sudden under the scrutinising stare it was giving you. 

Then you moved on to a carton box on the ground, kneeled in front of it and opened it with caution, coughing as more dust sprang up at the sudden movement. Once it had settled, you were surprised by the contents of the box, having forgotten all about them. 

Your mission to find something that you had stored in this room and needed lost its importance all of a sudden as you reached into the box and picked up a photo album that lay inside. Sitting on the floor with your legs crossed, you opened it, more dust filling the air as you did so. 

The first page was filled with photos of a newly-born you, lying in the arms of your parents. They laughed happily at the camera as they held you up as though you were their most prized possession. In that very moment, you probably were. 

Blaming the dust, you wiped at your eyes as your mind replaced those happy faces with the disappointed ones when they realised that you weren't the daughter that they had wanted. You hadn't wanted to go to university and study your life away only to end up doing the same, boring job for the rest of your life until the day you died, as they had wanted. Had called you a disgrace when you had refused to join them on family visits wherever your grandfather wasn't involved, had shaken their heads at your many rants about why you should not have a boyfriend at the age of sixteen. When the official diagnoses of your obsessive-compulsive disorder were made, they had looked at you as though you had been a failure, now knowing for sure that there was something wrong with you. When their stares and words had continued to haunt you even in your sleep, depression, suicidal thoughts and attempts, anxiety attacks, nihilism and the insomnia you still had today were some of the few... 'side-effects' that only seemed to prove their point. 

A gasp left your throat when your body reminded you to breathe, and you closed the album with a loud smack, your skin turning grey from the dust that got kicked up. You dumped it back into its box and only spared a glance towards the teddy bears and other toys that had accompanied you during your childhood. The most important ones of them still slept by your side, after all. 

The next box that you opened, feeling slightly afraid of what memories this one might hold, contained more books from your childhood. Books that taught you what sound cows made, books filled with fables about dogs befriending horses, books from school... Books you were embarrassed to have but that were too valuable to you to just throw away. Maybe to give to your children later, if you were ever to have any.

You scoffed at that, wondering if there was anybody out there who was crazy enough to want to stay with you long enough to build and maintain a family. Finishing that train of thought with a chuckle, you didn't bother to venture any further and closed that particular box to move onto the next object. 

This spare room wasn't really much bigger, the mirror and two rather large boxes filling up most of the space. Next to an antique chair that had belonged to your grandfather and now stood in the corner of this room, there was one more piece of furniture in the room: a vanity. 

You didn't know where it came from or to whom it had once belonged. It had come along with the house, had stood in the exact same position it was in right now. You hadn't ever felt the need to move it and had been too lazy to get rid of it, and so you now used it to store various old things in the drawers.

Scanning the first few drawers, it was in the very last one that you found what you had been looking for, what you could probably call your most important possession. The fact that you had never touched the shotgun since receiving it after your grandfather's death and instead kept it stored in this room was proof of that, no matter how weird it seemed. The many times you had gone hunting with the old man, sharing this weapon that still packed quite a punch, had just made it... unwanted to use it after the man you had shared those moments with was gone. 

But right now, it was probably the only hope you had left, combined with your usual pistol and the one you had gotten from Dante.

You grabbed the gun and the holster that went along with it and carried it back downstairs, where you set about to cleaning it. It wasn't as old as it looked with all the dirt and dust, the tradition of your hunts with your grandfather having only been a recent one. It had been his way to show how proud he had been of how far you had managed to come, from that little girl who used to wet her bed because of her nightmares to this strong woman who had taken it upon herself to make the world a better place, no matter how uncharacteristic it had seemed of her.

On your way home, you had purchased the ammo you would need for it, so once you were finished whipping it back into shape, you would be ready for whatever lay ahead of you. It would feel just like the good old days, as though your grandfather were watching your every step from over your shoulder to make sure you did everything right. Except that your grandfather, well, wasn't actually there. But it was the thought that counted. 

Outside, the sun was starting to set, and with its final rays of light it reflected off the now-polished shotgun, you felt that the next chapter of your life was about to begin.


	15. Clockwork Hearts

"God fucking damn it all," Dante ground out, his fist meeting his desk with way too much strength, more than intended. 

His gaze shifted from the pizza box which he had just opened and contained a pizza with - guess what - olives, to the dent he had just made. How was it possible that they kept forgetting that he didn't like olives? How was it even possible that he always ordered his pizza, specifically without olives, yet they always managed to give him pizzas _with_ these fruits that came straight from the pits of the Underworld itself? Normally he would just shrug it off and begin to pick them off and throw them away, but enough was fucking _enough_!

The devil hunter sighed and slumped back into his chair, hitting himself on the cheeks a few times as he did so. He knew perfectly well that this wasn't just about that stupid pizza. Fuck that stupid pizza, he actually didn't even feel like one in the first place! How come he had ordered one when he didn't feel like it?

...because that was what Dante always did.

He let out a groan and placed his elbows on the desk, resting his head in his hands as he evaluated his hopeless situation. He had given himself a little too much free reign, and now he was in a predicament like this. 

Why did he have to care so much about you?

Now don't get him wrong. Dante cared as much for humans as the next devil hunter... no, that wasn't right. Dante just cared very much for humans, wanted to help and protect them. 

His mother had been the cause for that, the shining light in what seemed to be his otherwise dark past. She had been the only human he had truly loved. Whether as punishment for himself because he couldn't protect her, as retribution, or just to prevent the same from happening to anybody else, he had set out to slay any demons who stood in his path and displayed evil intentions towards humans.

But he had never really _cared_ , like he did now. He didn't ponder about anybody's current situation when there didn't seem to be any immediate danger and he most certainly wasn't used to being... _worried_ for the safety of a... friend, if that was what he could call you. 

You had seemed accepting enough of him, in your own, curious way. It hadn't taken long for him the realise that, the more you pushed him away, the more you truly wanted him to come back. Typical woman, right?

In the beginning, you had been just another human being. A rather queer one, at that, with all the quirks and whatnot, but to the half-demon still just another human he would protect, as he did with all the other humans. When he had noticed your fear of contact on not just a physical, but on an emotional level as well, and how you had somehow become 'fond' of him, he thought that he would be doing you a favour by trying to pull you out of your shell.

Now he was starting to realise that you had ended up doing _him_ a favour as well. Most of the humans who knew the truth about him hadn't exactly had a normal past, to put it mildly. 

There was Lady, who had known her way around even before he had met her. She hadn't even known him as a human in the first place. Patty he had met through a mission, though whether she could be considered normal was questionable; after all, one of her ancestors had been some powerful alchemist who could summon and control demons. Then there was Alice, whom he wasn't even going to think about, and Enzo and Morrison, who had both provided him with odd jobs and therefore didn't count as ordinary either, according to Dante.

But you... Despite your intricate behaviour, for all intents and purposes you had been 'just' a normal human being who just had a knack for sticking your nose where it didn't belong, despite his warnings. You had probably not even been able to process whatever this Atlas was when the half-demon had thrown his story at you, yet you had managed to hold your ground, against all his expectations. 

'Hold your ground'. Dante laughed at that. Hell, you had practically sought the demon, had brought the battle to the monster itself, and that even though you knew you had no chance of winning. Somehow, Dante thought that it wouldn't take long until you'd learn the ropes of how to kick demon ass, with how much he knew that you hated being saved by him. Still, one couldn't be too careful. 

And then you had gone and hit the nail right on the head by telling him the truth about his own feelings, feelings he himself would rather not think of. It had made something inside of him snap and he realised that you hadn't been the only one holding back. The devil hunter had been so busy doing what he did best, that he hadn't had the time to realise the development that had taken place inside of him. 

Maybe it had started long ago, in the hospital. Maybe it had started when he saw you ready to throw your life away in a feeble attempt to take down a demon at least thrice your size. Or maybe the way that fighting together, even for the first time, had come to the two of you as easy as breathing did? 

"Ah, what does it matter anyway," the man muttered, shaking his head as he did so.

You had seemed to realise your mistake even before you had made it, and had grabbed the first chance you received to get out of here. Dante knew far too well that, if it depended on you, he would probably never get to see you again. 

The sound of the telephone ringing interrupted him in his thinking, and even without having picked up yet, he couldn't help but have a premonition about who was on the other side. A smirk appeared on his face as he corrected his previous thought: it seemed as though it didn't depend on you after all.

 _You know, you could also help her efforts of staying away from you,_ a voice muttered inside his head, to which Dante simply replied, _Go fuck yourself._

The voice sighed and complained, _I would, but you know very well who will keep appearing._ Dante ignored it and picked up the phone. 

"Hello James," Dante greeted as soon as he held the horn against his ear without waiting for the person on the other side to introduce themselves.

"Wha- How?" the boy began, confused, but he quickly gathered his thoughts and continued, "No, never mind. More importantly-"

"What did your boss do now?" the half-demon inquired before James could go off rambling again. He twirled the cord of the phone with his finger, having suddenly forgotten the depressing thoughts that had just dominated his mind, instead concentrating on the task at hand. 

"She- Boss- Chief-"

" _James_."

A short silence, before James decided to start from the very beginning. "Boss came in this morning, though not really morning but in the afternoon. She was hours too late, something that she _never_ , almost kills me if I do it myself, too, and when she came in, it was obvious that she had been working out. She used to do that every morning until she was hospitalised, but I just guessed that she felt good enough to start it again."

That must have been your way to start preparing for this battle you had forced yourself into, or so Dante guessed as he waited for James to continue his story. Muffled noises came from the other side of the connection and the half-demon patiently waited, though not without flicking an olive off his cold pizza and shoving the piece into his mouth.

"And well, anyway, I just happened to be standing there, talking to another officer when she barged in, far too late as I said. And I remembered that the Chief had told me that he had wanted to speak to her and that I should tell her the next time I see her, so I told her just that, and she just gave me that look she always gives me when I have to follow her, so naturally I did just that. Follow her, I mean."

Dante rolled his eyes at how slow the story was progressing. He was starting to grow rather impatient, and he doubted that anything important had happened if your partner was taking his sweet time to explain why he was calling Dante. 

As though sensing the irritation rolling off him in waves, James quickly continued. "Ah, yes, sorry. Anyway, so, I foll-we went to see Chief, and even before he could say anything, she declared that she was going to quit. Just like that! Without any explanation!"

"She what?"

"Exactly! That was our reaction too! And well, after that I kind of left without waiting for her, because... Ah, never mind. I left and she didn't stop by, she just left the office. I tried calling her a while after, my anger at her turning into worry, but she wouldn't pick up and well, here I am..." James trailed off. He didn't actually want to ask for the favour, finding it kind of bad of himself that he would even request something like this.

"You want me to 'check up on her'?" Dante asked, knowing fully well what had been meant, fortunately for the boy, who heaved a sigh of relief.

"Yes. That is, if you don't mind..." It wasn't like Dante's live revolved around keeping you safe, after all. James could understand if the man had other things to do than babysit you in secret.

"It's fine. I'll see ya around, then," the devil hunter replied and he hung up without waiting for a response.

He didn't wait around to give his mind the opportunity to reprimand himself for being an idiot. Instead, he grabbed his coat and everything else he would need, picked up the pizza box and dumped it, pizza and all, into the bin on his way out. 

A few hours later, having searched all over the place, in every corner of the city which the devil hunter could think of, he came to the conclusion that you must be inside your house. He couldn't just come to visit you, at least not so soon after hearing the news, for that might raise suspicion and you would figure out that he was supposed to make sure everything was all right with you. At least there hadn't been any sign of Atlas either, but if what you had told him was true, then that was because he would still be working as your Chief. Tomorrow, then, Dante decided that he would check up on you.

~~~~

Lying on your couch, an arm slung over your head, your mind was running amok. Partly in exhaustion, for you still hadn't had any proper sleep, partly in panic, for you had just realised something that had seemed rather trivial to you before.

If Chief were really Atlas, and if he had been planning on using the bustle of the Christmas fair to his advantage to find a quick meal, then why had he decided to send _you_ there, too? Had he thought that you would follow orders, as a taunt? Had he thought his lackey demons would stop you? Or had he just miscalculated, that it had been a mistake on his part? 

Whatever the case, you had told yourself many times that it no longer mattered, for it was already in the past. Your mind, however, didn't agree with this and forced you to analyse the situation once more, to try and remember the scene before you a bit better, until you found that you had actually fallen asleep. 

A knock on your door startled you, your body waking you up with a jolt, and you scolded yourself for being afraid. If it actually were Atlas coming to kill and eat you, it would have smashed the door in and used your surprise to its advantage. It wouldn't have knocked at your door, asked you for permission to come in and - oh yeah - if you didn't mind standing still while it ate you. 

Still, you grabbed the gun that Dante had given you, not wanting to use your shotgun this early in a possible confrontation, as you made your way towards your door. Just before you opened it, you made a note that you had to do something about the fact that you had to actually open the door to see who was standing on the other side. 

You groaned when you saw the man clad in red stand before you, a grin on his face to greet you with. 

"What are you doing here?" you asked him, starting to grow annoyed by his following. Hadn't he said something about you enjoying how he went wherever you went? You weren't quite feeling it right now.

"Oh, just checking on my fav-"

BANG.

"OW! WHAT THE FUCK!" Dante yelled as he hopped about on his left leg while he tried to cradle the other in his hands. 

You watched him react and saw, with inner glee, how his face turned from pained to shocked as realisation dawned on him. "You shot me! You fucking. Shot. Me! Why did you shoot me?"

"Oh, I don't know. Was just testing to see whether you were actually immortal, or really hard to kill, with your demon blood and all," you responded with a shrug while you stepped to the side to let the devil hunter in. "Please keep my carpet blood-free."

Dante glared at you as he slowly made his way into your house, putting most of his weight on his un-shot leg. By then it had already stopped bleeding and you would notice the wound to have disappeared only a few minutes later. 

"What if my human half had made me as vulnerable as a normal person? Then you would have killed your only capable ally in this battle," Dante retorted and deliberately flung himself onto your couch with such force that the poor thing skidded back a bit.

"I would have finally freed myself of you. Doesn't that count for something?" you shot back at him, closing the door before sitting down in the armchair next to the couch while trying your very best not to feel too annoyed by the change Dante had made to the room.

After sitting in silence for half a minute - you with your arms crossed and a frown on your face, Dante looking as though he were sleeping peacefully without a care in the world - you let out a frustrated yell. Getting up, you stomped over to the back of the couch and pushed it with all your might until you managed to get it back where it belonged. 

Dante had opened one eye to follow your movements and, with a grin, commented, "Wow, I never thought you'd survive that long."

"Fuck you," you growled out as you fell back into your chair. "It's not like I can help it or anything. 'Dear God, it would be very great if you could turn my OCD off. Thank you very much'. Ugh." 

A laugh from Dante earned him a glare from you, which silenced him again.

When neither of you said anything again for the next few minutes, you shot the man a look that radiated your exasperation. "What are you doing here if you're not going to say anything? Oh wait, I know, James told you to check up on me, didn't he? Well, tell him I am doing fine and that he should go on without me. I can't keep holding his hand for the rest of his life, and the chances of me getting my job back after all this are pretty slim..."

Now it was Dante's turn to frown at you, though he didn't reply at once. He turned his gaze away from you to look up at the ceiling again and your stubbornness forbade you to push him to talk back to you. He had come to visit you, then he was going to begin the conversations, too. 

"Actually, I also came because I was worried myself," the devil hunter finally replied, his eyes never leaving the ceiling. Before you could even open your mouth to say something, he went on, "How's your wound?" 

You let out a sigh and shrugged, realising that repeating your lines of 'I'm fine' and 'Don't worry about me' most likely weren't going to have the effect you were hoping for. So instead, you just answered his question. 

"It's fine, it looked worse than it actually was. It doesn't even bother me that much anymore."

Dante nodded in acknowledgement, after which the by-now familiar silence returned. By now you had already gotten over your annoyance, instead picking up a book you had wanted to read through and telling yourself to just enjoy the company. If such a thing was possible for you. 

A voice inside your head scolded you at having such a thought. It reminded you of Dante's words, telling you that you were lonely and that, in reality, you were craving for his attention. Any attention at all, maybe. Did it really matter whether it was Dante or somebody else? Maybe enough had become enough and now your body was reaching out to anybody who dared to get too close. 

You shook your head at that, unwilling to believe yourself to be so desperate as to have such feelings. It was most likely as Dante had said: both of you were outcasts in your own ways, and that must have been what had attracted you to him in the first place. 

In the meanwhile, the half-demon sitting across from you had decided to sneak a peak at you. He was surprised to find you sitting in your chair, staring at the pages in front of you with unseeing eyes, though it was obvious your mind seemed to be at war. He raised an eyebrow at the troubled expression on your face, wondering what could possibly bring you in such a position but not even bothering to answer the question himself. He was sure he wouldn't be able to guess it anyway, with your eccentricity and all.

After a few more minutes of inner debate, though you found no solution, you did offer yourself a conclusion: whatever the case, you weren't going to allow yourself to get any closer to him. You would need him for this mission, no longer just a case, and afterwards you would part ways with him and try to figure out what you were supposed to do with Atlas gone.

With a curt nod, you concentrated on the text in front of you for the first time since opening the book, only to find that your mind kept zooming away from the words. Letters became blurry in front of your eyes no matter how much you squinted or rubbed them. In the end, you had to acknowledge the fact that you, the great detective with the even better mind, never defeated by trivial matters, could not focus on your job. 

In sudden realisation, you lifted your head and glared at the white-haired man who looked like he had fallen asleep on your couch. His hands were tucked behind his head, which had fallen just so that you could view him from the front. The peaceful look on his face made your heart do a despicable jump and you almost wanted to stab yourself with a knife so that it would never beat again. 

His mouth hung open slightly, and your mind at once jumped back to the kiss the two of you had shared. You wondered how he would react if you were to wake him up by straddling him, leaning down and pressing _your_ lips to _his_ , for once. You wondered how it would feel to have him press up against you from down below... and then you bit your lip to bring you out of your fantasies. Your face turned red at the disgusting thoughts that had managed to wriggle their way into your head and you hit yourself with the book you were still holding. 

_He needs to get out of here._

How were you going to explain yourself if you were to wake him all of a sudden, your cheeks still blushing as you demanded him to leave?

 _No,_ I _have to go._

And so you did. You got up, armed yourself with your two guns - leaving the shotgun in its corner for now - and left the house, leaving your spare key on the pillow next to Dante's head.


	16. Don't Look Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Don't Look Back belongs to Amarante.

In your haste, you hadn't devised a plan as to _where_ exactly you planned on going, and so you decided to not think too much as you got into your car. It hadn't seen a lot of use in the past few weeks, and you hoped it wouldn't die on you all of a sudden. Igniting the engine and hearing the familiar noise, you relaxed a little into your seat as you backed out of your parking spot and drove off. 

Now you knew that turning off your mind while driving wasn't the best thing to do, but you trusted your body enough to at least be able to drive around a bit by itself. You rarely let your instinct do what it wanted, and so you thought that, especially now that you had no idea what you wanted to do or where you wanted to go, maybe it would get you out of your bind for once. 

Turns out that your instinct didn't think very favourably of how you kept it locked up most of the time. You probably should have reckoned with that.

When Dante had arrived at your door, it had already been nearing nine o'clock in the evening, so it was now rather dark outside, the streetlights only adding to the eerie atmosphere you found winter always gave your surroundings. With the chance of snow and icy roads at every moment, most people favoured staying inside or going places by foot over using the car, and so the road was practically deserted as you made your way through the streets, careful of the fresh layer of snow that had just been dropped.

Christmas was getting far too close for your liking, too, and you couldn't stop thinking about how you had been so stupid as to promise Dante that the two of you would be spending it together. You felt that, now that you had said it, the devil hunter would almost be expecting you to hold up your end of the bargain. You didn't want to imagine the disappointment the poor man would feel when he found out you weren't planning on doing anything of the sort after all, and then you went on to reprimand yourself for even being considerate of his feelings. Had you already forgotten that speech you had given yourself of everyone and everything breaking your heart if he or she or it got the chance? No, obviously you hadn't... then why wouldn't you just give up trying to think of excuses as to why you _should_ get close to others? The whole ordeal with James should have been proof enough that people with connections to you always end up being unhappy. You weren't the only one whose heart kept getting broken; you yourself broke others' hearts as well. 

_That's right. You don't deserve to be happy,_ a voice inside your head snapped in anger. 

You bit your lip and ignored it, pretending to concentrate on the road ahead of you instead. It didn't seem to like that because it let out a 'hmpf' and left soon after. Fortunately, too, for you chastising yourself over everything you did was quite enough; you didn't need other voices inside your head doing the same as well. 

As the car slowly rolled on, the soft hum of the engine was the only sound filling the air - for you found buying CDs a waste of money and would rather shoot yourself than listen to that horrible shit on the radio - and it almost lulled you to sleep as you tried to keep your mind empty of all thoughts, be they negative or positive. Your body, however, did a good job at doing what it was supposed to do: not get itself, and any bystanders if possible, killed when put on autopilot. 

Only about half an hour later did you actually start wondering where the hell you had ended up driving towards, for the darkness ahead of you shocked you back into full consciousness. The streetlights had disappeared, and looking back proved that they had been gone for quite a while. You always automatically, and uncontrollably, clenched and unclenched your jaw with the passing of every light, but you hadn't realised that you had stopped doing so.

That meant you must have left the city a while back, but as you looked around you for any clues as to where you might be, you couldn't discern exactly which exit you had taken, and thus had no idea where you had ended up. 

You frowned and then proceeded to look around for a place to turn around so that you could just take the same road back. Then you realised that you were all on your own out here, so nobody would care if you turned on the middle of the road, but just as you were about to make a u-turn, what you would call your instincts 'told' you, as it were, to keep on driving. 

Though your instinct had most likely been planning its revenge against you, it had probably saved your life by preventing you from turning back. 

And so, utterly confused and lost, you drove on at an even slower pace than before, squinting your eyes to make sure you didn't happen to lose the road and enter the woods, or some nonsense like that. As if being lost like this wasn't bad enough, losing your vehicle by driving into a tree was the absolute last thing you needed. 

It didn't take you much longer to notice that you had somehow ended up in the industrial periphery, situated a ways from the city and near the ocean, from where the place got most of its shipments by boat. You had no idea what kind of work was performed here, hadn't ever been here before, either. You had no clue why you were here, and you hadn't the foggiest where you were going either, what with not being able to see anything for the lack of proper lights in the vicinity. 

Driving between piles and stacks of crates and containers, eventually the silence became too much even for you, and so your hand, trembling under the sudden pressure of the stifling atmosphere, reached out and wandered across the dashboard in search of the radio's controls. 

Yes, that's right. You had used that radio so little that you weren't able to situate its on-and-off button in the dark. 

Giving up half way through your search, and not daring to tear your eyes off the path ahead of you, you instead moved your hand to the steering wheel, deciding that maybe two hands having a firm grasp on it seemed the safest option right now. Not that that extra hand would help you a lot in the coming events. 

The start of said events were signalled when, all of a sudden, a cold rush ran over your skin, leaving goose bumps in its wake as it went from the tip of your toes to the top of your head. 

As if that hadn't already been enough of a signal, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up and all you could utter was, "Fuck."

That's what you got for leaving the safety of Dante's companionship, no matter the effects of his presence had on you. Would you rather be dead, or would you rather feel flustered and embarrassed? No? Exactly. 

You pushed the thought to the back of your mind and tried to concentrate on the situation at hand. You were driving through a narrow corridor of containers - why was it that all your encounters were in places such as these? - and the light of your vehicle's front lamps was barely enough to discern the splits in the 'road', never mind what was hiding around the corners. 

What to do? What to do? 

What _could_ you do? You might have had some specially-powered gun made by Dante, but you had been stupid enough to leave your shotgun behind. 

But then again, what good would your shotgun have been, stuck in your car, unable to manoeuvre yourself properly? It would have given you nothing more than false confidence. 

Having been too busy with your thoughts once again - the downside of your genius, if there ever was one - it came as a surprise to you when your surroundings disappeared all of a sudden and you entered a large clearing, the piles of containers having been left behind you.

"No!" you yelled, mad at both the situation and at yourself for letting your guard down like that. 

You hadn't even been able to take any measurements, such as reversing back into the narrow pathway between the crates, or grabbing your guns and leaving your vehicle to run for cover, when the world around you started to shake violently. 

At once, you recognised the noise as Atlas's feet pounding against the ground beneath it and you knew that it had been lying in wait, hoping for just a moment like this. Why it had even known you would be here at this moment was beyond you, but you didn't exactly have enough time to ponder the answer to this question as you saw the glint of its huge body rushing towards you from your right side.

Rolling down the window and grabbing Dante's gun at the same time, you aimed and shot at the monster, hoping to set it off its course, or to just delay it until your brain felt like working again. 

It seemed that you had no such luck, however, as Atlas continued its rush towards you, even though the liquid gleaming in its face made it evident that you _had_ hit it a few times. The fact that you had managed to make the demon bleed, thanks to this gun Dante had given you, gave you a feeling of victory, but you rolled up your window back up anyway, just in case that something like that might help. Or maybe it was just the need for closure forcing you to do so.

That feeling of victory wasn't very long-lived, however, as only moments later it crashed its bleeding head against the side of your car.

Only when you saw the door to the passenger's side bend in towards you did you start to feel afraid, dread filling you as you chanced a glance in the opposite direction and found that the ocean was far closer than you had liked. You tried to calm yourself down by telling yourself that the distance between you and the end of what you now noticed to be a dock was too large to ever reach it like this. 

Apparently even your acquaintance with Dante hadn't prepared you for the actual strength of a demon. Atlas retreated in haste, only to turn around again once it deemed that it had put enough room between your car and itself to pick up speed and finish what it had started. 

This time, when its head rammed your car, it didn't just make a dent. Instead, it sent you, one tonne-weighing vehicle and all, practically flying through the air. Because of the speed of the demon, your car didn't just smash into the ground afterwards. Instead, it rolled over a few more times, violently at first, until it slowed down into a maybe-maybe not toppling over onto the other side. 

When your car finally stopped moving, you were hanging upside down, trying your best not to throw up from both the sharp pain in your head, having hit something during the rolling, and the rolling itself. 

So there you hung, upside down in your car. You tried your best to stay as still as possible, which wasn't a difficult task seeing as you were still swimming in and out of consciousness. You didn't know where you were right now, but your gut told you that it couldn't be anywhere good, like far, far away from the sea. The creaking sound your car was making and the feeling of it slowly tipping over weren't helping the situation at all and by the time you knew for a fact that you were lying on the edge of the dock, you were already plummeting towards the waves of the ocean beneath you.

Suddenly very alive and awake again, a scream left your throat but it got cut off by a splash as your car landed in the sea, your head banging against the steering wheel as you hit the waves, water seeping into the vehicle through cracks you didn't even knew were there. In the first few seconds after, you were out cold; the only thing filling your vision a blinding whiteness that reminded you of a certain someone's hair. 

"Dante," you mumbled and your heart did that damned jiggle again, but it stopped at once when you felt cold water encasing parts of your legs and you remembered what was going on.

The first thing you did was unbuckle your seatbelt, your mind uncannily blank as you tried to do so. There were no 'why's or 'how's; there was only the will to survive. That only got worse when the bloody thing seemed to be jammed and all the tugging of your heavy limbs wasn't helping one bit.

As the water rose to your hips, so did your panic. You let out another cry of despair and looked around frantically, trying to find something through the heavy throbbing of your head and the terror, _anything_ that could help you. On the seat next to you, you noticed your antidepressants, which you never seemed to touch these days, that had somehow fallen out of the glove compartment. That said something about how little you usually touched those bastards. 

Your OCD chose the best time to kick in all of a sudden and feeling the urge to pop a pill, despite the voice screaming inside your head that you didn't have time for this, you did just that. Fortunately, your OCD did seem to realise that it wasn't time to be picky about which tablet felt 'right'. Afterwards, you sat still for a few moments, willing the medication to kick in faster with the help of the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

When it did, however, everything seemed much clearer and your panic ebbed away, though the water continued its way over your stomach. Bending down and lifting your knee at the same time, you pulled your knife out of your boot. How could you, yet again, have forgotten that you had had this with you?

With a single swipe, you unfolded it and within mere seconds you had cut yourself free from the seatbelt. Everything was starting to become woozy once more as you tried to push the door open, but you remembered something about the pressure equalising and it being inhuman to open a door when the car was still half-empty.

_Dante._

Your heart started to throb again, this time together with your head, almost as if it were actually feeling pain at the thought of never seeing the annoying bastard again. Where was he when you needed him most, anyway? Why were you even begging for his help, anyway? What about becoming strong enough to take care of yourself? Were you to rely on the man for the rest of your life?

After several more futile attempts to kick the door open, you realised you should try and smash the window open instead. By now, moving around was almost impossible because of the water that had risen to your shoulders. Your head, however, was still thinking clearly, even with the headache and... What was that?

Blood slowly dripped down your forehead from hitting the steering wheel. While softly cussing yourself out for not having braced yourself for the impact, you somehow managed to find your guns. Fearing that water had gotten into the barrel, you chose smashing its butt against the window instead of shooting it.

Even this was an almost impossible task, seeing as how the water was slowing your movements down. But with every bit of extra water that seeped into the car, your panic returned with a vengeance and so did the strength in your arms. A crack appeared and with hope you continued slamming at it, until a hole finally appeared and it became easier to break a hole big enough for you to squeeze through. 

Taking a deep breath, you wriggled yourself out of the window, receiving wounds from the jagged ends here and there but getting out unharmed for the most part. And just as you were about to permanently free yourself from the sinking car, your foot caught onto something and wouldn't let go.

_Fuck._

You didn't say it out loud, afraid to lose precious air, and instead started tugging with all your might. It was the seatbelt that hadn't retracted properly, twisting around your leg as if it were alive and didn't want you to leave. 

The feeling of your chest and throat tightening signalled that you didn't have much time left, and black spots were starting to swim around in front of you. You began to frantically search around for your knife, not quite sure where you had put it once you had used it. By the time you had found it, having stuck it in the pocket of your trousers, and had managed to free yourself, you were already on autopilot, your body forcing you to open your mouth and inhale.

_I'm going to die._

There wasn't anything else you could think of as you hung there, coughing at the water in your lungs. 

A current began to pull at you. To the left, then back to the right. As if the ocean was trying to lull you to sleep for the last time, trying to make your death as comfortable as possible.

It would have worked, were it not for that flash of white that reappeared, together with the feeling as if someone were hitting your head with a sledgehammer. 

The flash was followed by a sudden warmth around your arms, and suddenly the current had gotten much stronger. Before you knew what had happened, a pang of air hit you in the face and you inhaled like an asthma-patient after having an attack, but then with lots of spluttering. 

You even threw up a few times - mainly water - before you came back to your senses. At least, as much as that was possible with having hit your head _twice_ and having almost drowned mere moments ago. 

"D-Dante?" you whispered hoarsely, your trembling fingers winding their way in his wet hair as you stared into his blue eyes.

His lips were twisted in a small smirk, but it was rather obvious that it was fake. His gaze left yours and moved up a bit, to the blood that was giving your face a beautiful war-painted look and he finally showed you the grimace that had been hiding behind his grin. 

"The fuck... you doing here?" you managed between gasps, but the tears leaking from your eyes and mingling with the seawater on your cheek made it rather obvious that you weren't being serious.

Dante gave you a surprised look at the sight of your crying, but instead of saying something back to you, he began to pull you along with him, back to land. 

You yourself looked back at him, just as surprised at your own tears, so many emotions and thoughts rushing through you at the same time. As Dante continued to drag you along with him, you clung to his jacket, buried your face in the crook of his neck and let yourself go for once, bawling out loud to free yourself from this turmoil inside of you.

Your first thought during the whole ordeal had been that of Dante, hoping he would come and save you. All this time, you had been trying to run away from him, to spare yourself of yet another heartbreak, but it had all been nothing more than a lie to yourself. You had already gotten far too close to the half-demon to treat him as just a colleague, to just forget about him when this was over. It would end in a heartbreak either way, anyway. Or would it?

These tears - tears of _relief_ \- were enough proof for all this. Though you weren't exactly wanting or trying to kill yourself, your suicidal tendencies hadn't truly left you as you had gotten older. You hadn't even been afraid of dying, had rather thought that you would embrace it instead, if your time were to come. Yet here you were, glad to still be alive, though you didn't quite understand how it could have been possible for Dante to find you. You had truly thought you were going to die, and had been frightened. 

You hadn't wanted to die.

You had wanted to stay around for just a bit longer. To shoot this man in his other leg, perhaps. Or maybe to experience the many things you had never before been interested in with him? Perhaps he wanted the same with you?

It occurred to you all of a sudden that he hadn't called you by one of his perverted nicknames in quite a while.

A small smile appeared between your tears, and for the first time you allowed your heart to do its retarded jumping thing as you looked up at Dante.

At the sudden stop of your crying, the devil hunter looked down at you, his icy blue eyes meeting yours. He blinked a few times, the questions in his mind obvious to guess, at which you laughed. He raised an eyebrow, now clearly wondering if that hit to your head had gotten to your... well, head.

Then you, without thinking, pushed yourself up with the help of Dante's shoulders and pressed your lips to his. Without waiting for his consent, you slipped your tongue into his mouth, caressed his own tongue to stimulate it into moving along with yours.

Instead, Dante froze up while he confirmed that hitting your head had indeed been a bit too much for you. In an attempt to save your own dignity from yourself, he tried to pull you away, but you reacted to this by pressing harder against his mouth. His mouth, by then having understand what was going on, turned into a grin before he broke the one-sided kiss by turning his head to the side.

"You know, I absolutely _love_ that you're so eager all of a sudden, but maybe you should wait until we've got you some place safe and dry, and not, you know, in the middle of the sea," he murmured before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

Your cheeks flushed at your sudden eagerness and so you hid your face back in the crook of his neck. 

Though your car hadn't fallen that far into the ocean, the swim back to land felt like it took ages, and in the meantime you kept swimming in and out of consciousness. You wanted to fall asleep, but at the same time you were suddenly afraid that something might go wrong if you did and that you might die anyway.

Still, the sound of the waves around you and Dante's warmth that encased and protected you from the coldness of the water managed to lull you to a peaceful sleep anyway, despite his protests. You only hoped there'd be a tomorrow to look him in the eye again and tell him of your epiphany. 

You were willing to try.


	17. Epiphany

The next time you opened your eyes, you at once realised that you were lying in a bed, packed under a pile of blankets. That also explained why your whole body was sticky with sweat.

That, however, did _not_ explain why you were stark naked.

Neither did that explain why Dante was lying next to you, though under his own blanket. You could only see his bare shoulders and you panicked, wondering whether _he_ was naked, too. Whether you were sharing a blanket or not, sharing the same bed, even when not naked, was just too much for you.

Apparently, your stirring about had woken Dante up and he rolled over onto his side, closer to you. His blanket fell from his shoulders, down his arms, and rested in the small curve of his hip, giving you full access to his toned chest, though you weren't quite in the position to take pleasure in the sight of it.

"What's wrong?" the devil hunter asked, eyes still half closed in a groggy attempt to wake himself.

"W-what's wrong?! You- We- You do realise we're lying naked in bed together, right?" you shot right back at him, not giving him the chance to come back to the living in a peaceful manner.

Dante blinked a few times before he ran a hand through his hair. "Yes, I know that you're naked. I was the one to undress you, after all. You know, because you were wet and shivering and that's the first thing one does most of the time in such a situation."

You mentally cursed when he didn't elaborate on the part of whether or not he was naked, too. Still, you did try to calm yourself down a little by telling yourself that the guy hadn't been meaning to take advantage of you. He had wanted to save you. 

"I never thought you'd be so uncomfortable about it. Last time you seemed to flaunt your assets freely."

Okay, so maybe he had been trying to take advantage of you. A little. But remember, he had also wanted to save you.

"And anyway, I remember you were quite passionate about kissing me yesterday when I was pulling you out of the water."

The bastard quirked an eyebrow to add to his challenge, the corner of his mouth turning upwards into a tiny smirk, which made you frown back at him.

"There's a huge difference between wanting to kiss someone and wanting to share a bed with them," you retorted while you struggled to enlarge the distance between the two of you. No matter how much you hated the situation, you weren't quite willing to trade this warm nest of yours for the cold outside world. And destroy any decency you had left by displaying yourself in all your nakedness before the man, while conscious. 

The smirk on Dante's face only grew at your words. "Are you telling me that that kiss was an 'I want to kiss you' kiss, and not a passionate 'I'm not dead' kiss? Because I can totally understand the latter, if that's what you meant."

Despite the smile on the man's face, you managed to see the sadness hidden behind it. You wondered whether that sadness had always been there without you noticing it, or whether this matter was so important to him.

Whatever the case, you knew that his question was a test, your last chance to get out of this while you still could. He wasn't stupid, and you saying you wanted to kiss him was enough to insinuate the truth. But exactly because he wasn't stupid, he knew how difficult it was for you to admit it, and that you might regret it. 

You didn't answer immediately, merely stared at the ceiling with unseeing eyes, running your mind over the options presented to you. You could take the escape and try fleeing from the reality of your feelings once more, or you could make good on your promise to yourself and just say 'fuck it all' for once. 

The moment you glanced towards Dante, who lay next to you in silence and patience while he waited for you to answer his question, he knew the decision you had chosen. 

Probably in a bout of happiness, he ducked towards you in an obvious attempt to kiss you, but you dodged him by jumping out of bed, holding one of the blankets around you. 

"Please don't do that," you almost begged as you wrapped the blanket around you, shivering at the sudden cold.

"What, kiss you?" Dante inquired as he sat up in bed, his own blanket pooling around his hips to reveal a pair of black boxers. "And you really shouldn't go out like that. You've probably got a fever."

But you shook your head and would have none of it. Instead, you held your hand in the air, pointing with your finger towards the man, a stern look on your face.

"First of all, no sharing beds, whether naked or not." 

Dante pouted a little and crossed his arms over his chest, but nodded anyway. "Fine."

"Secondly, no hugging or kissing all the time."

At that, Dante's eyebrows shot up. "But isn't that the whole point of a relationship?"

You gulped at hearing that, still finding it a little scary to coin whatever was between the two of you as 'a relationship'. It was better than if he had gone and called you 'his girlfriend'...

"How do you plan on ever having sex like that?" he continued, talking about the foul subject as though it were nothing. 

To him, it probably was. It wouldn't surprise you if he had had it many times, with many different women... but you hadn't, of course. Everything you did with Dante was going to be your first, even just the 'wanting to be near someone' part of it all. If being in the company of someone in a sexual manner was going to take you a while to get used to, you weren't even sure if the two of you would survive long enough to come to the part where both of you felt comfortable with something so intimate. 

"Okay, we're going to have to talk about that. I'm going to go ahead and propose that, since it seems that everything goes with you, we will be venturing down this path of 'a relationship' on my terms, got it?"

"So no sex?"

"No... not yet, at least." 

"...is this thing between us monogamous?"

"Yes, I suppose it is."

"Well shit."

You blinked a few times, confused. For some reason, it disturbed you to think about the devil hunter having had sex with anybody in the time that you had known him, though of course that was his own business. 

"Can I still go to strip clubs?" he then asked, looking rather hopeful.

Now it was your turn to raise an eyebrow. Was it normal that women kept their men on such short leashes these days? Did that not only inspire more cheating than letting them do what they willed? "You can look, but no touching, got it?"

"That's fine by me," Dante replied, holding his hands in the air in a show of submission. 

Not that you needed it, for though you never asked about it, you understood that this must have been an just as large step for him as it had been for you. He had lived in solitude for most of his life, too, and though he had met many people, not many still hung around. Though he would never tell you, you knew that he partially blamed himself for his mother's death and you knew that you weren't the first human he had helped out with a demon-problem, seeing as he had a whole business running on it. You figured it was his way of repenting for his 'sins', and the fact that in all this time, you seemed to be the first to capture him like this. It just couldn't be a coincidence. 

Your own layer of protection slipped away at the thought, and you relaxed against the wall you had been standing all this time. Staring at the wooden boards beneath your feet, you began to count them as you began to take slow steps. Slipping back under your mountain of blankets once you had finished, you kept the distance between the two of you as large as you could. Dante, however, seemed satisfied enough and you could catch a glimpse of his smile as he turned onto his other side, his back facing you as he went back to sleep. You yourself, on the other hand, commenced to stare at the ceiling and the walls, your eyes sliding over and counting every single detail of his bedroom that you could see without sitting up.

~~~~

A few hours later, after you had decided to get up after all and were cleaning the entire house because you refused to see the horrible state everything was in for a second longer, a half-dressed Dante came rushing down the stairs. When his eyes fell on your back as you scrubbed away at something in the kitchen, he relaxed and continued to dress himself while he went after you.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked, his voice somehow a mix between sternness and playfulness as he leaned against a wall to watch you. 

"As you can see, I'm cleaning. But I assume you don't have a clue what 'cleaning' means, for if you did, then I probably wouldn't be doing just that in this instant," you shot back at him.

"You're going to get sick if you don't rest properly. You do know you've been wounded, right?" he countered while he took a step forward and held his hand out for you, obviously wanting you to give him the scrubbing sponge you held in a death grip. 

You glared at his hand and pressed a finger against the bandage wrapped around your temple, the mention of your wounds at once bringing back the pounding headache. You also remembered all of a sudden that Dante had woken you up at regular intervals in the middle of the night to make sure you didn't have a concussion. 

"I'm fine. I've had worse," you muttered as you continued scrubbing the counter top, only for Dante to wrap his fingers around your wrist and practically tear the sponge out of your grasp.

"I thought you were an independent woman who would hate staying at home and cleaning the house," Dante said rather cheerfully all of a sudden, chucking the sponge over his shoulder and into the bin that stood in the corner. 

That earned him a scowl from you as you followed the sponge's path until it was out of sight, after which you crossed your arms under your chest and leaned against the soppy counter top. "You got that right. But I guessed you'd think it even worse if I were to just get up and leave, and I couldn't stand the stink of this place any longer."

Dante laughed at that and turned around to leave the kitchen with you following him. 

"Come, I've had a lot of time to think and I've got a few plans I want to discuss with you," you began as you sat down on the newly-cleaned couch and watched Dante take his spot behind his desk.

He threw you a sceptical glance before responding with, "No way am I going to let you leave the house just yet."

An incredulous stare from you, accompanied by silence, attracted the man's attention from sifting through the piles of papers that he had stacked on his desk. He looked up, only to find you almost gaping at him. "You're going to catch flies like that, you know."

You shook your head, tried to gain your own bearings once more. When it seemed that Dante was no longer paying attention to you, you shook your head one last time and made your way to the door. There was no way you were going to let someone tell you what to do.

"Now just-" Dante began, but even before he had finished his own sentence his hand grabbed your arm, stopping you from proceeding, "wait a minute."

In your shock at his speed, you even stopped breathing for a moment, only to come back to reality when you told yourself that the half-demon would never actually hurt you with his powers. And as you did so, a thought dawned upon you, something you hadn't realised just yet. 

Turning around to face the man, who kept your arm captive, you asked him, "Why don't you go to the office right now and take the Chief out in his own room?" 

Your offence from a few moments ago had all but disappeared, having been replaced with a challenging tone that you directed towards Dante. The question seemed to take him by surprise, and he let go of your arm. 

"Well... you see..." he began, rubbing the back of his head and averting eye contact all of a sudden, the reaction making you frown. "You saying you think the Chief is Atlas is all good and well, but you don't have any actual proof. I can't risk killing an ordinary human being, no matter how much of an asshole he seems to be, just because of your... gut feeling, or whatever it is."

At first, there was silence. You did this on purpose, for seeing the state he was in, you just couldn't help but want to bully him a bit more. When you felt that you had tortured the poor man enough, your laughter filled the air.

"I'm glad you're having a good time right now, but if it's okay with you, could you please explain what's so funny?" Dante asked. His voice was laced with annoyance as he pulled away from you, feeling a bit insulted by your mirth.

"Why would you be so afraid to tell me something like that?" you finally inquired after a while. 

At hearing that question, Dante once more began to look a bit uncomfortable. Embarrassed, even. "I thought it was a shared thing between women to demand full trust and support from their male partners, whatever the situation?"

"You thought it would be a good idea to apply something that might be common in women to _me_?" you shot back at him as you raised a sceptical eyebrow. 

"...you got me there."

You shook your head as you smiled a small smile. "If anything, your denying me because you don't completely believe me yet has only made you rise in my esteem. I don't need someone who follows me every step of the way as my equal. I'd rather be challenged to try my very best to get what I want, than to get everything done with the snip of a finger."

"What about James? I bet he'd do almost everything you'd ask of him," Dante retorted and crossed his arms, a playful look on his face. On the inside, however, he felt rather proud that he had managed to receive an indirect compliment from you. It had become obvious that you didn't treat people like you did because you felt like it, but because, maybe, you felt disappointed by their lack of... whatever it was that you expected from them. 

"Ha!" You let out another bark of laughter. Then all the cheer in your expression was replaced by seriousness, and you stated, "No, James is my student, I'm his mentor. If I coddle him like a baby all the time, the boy will never be able to stand on his own feet for once. I think being left without me all of a sudden will do him good."

"You can't imagine how glad I am that I never had to learn anything under you." Dante shuddered.

At that, you allowed the corner of your lip to twitch up in a smirk. "Oh, but you still have a lot to learn." 

With that, you turned on your heel and made your way through the room to gather your coat and guns. As you did so, you unintentionally and unconsciously swayed your hips, which forced Dante to bite his lower lip while he watched you move about. He didn't doubt your words for a moment. 

"To start with your first lesson: nobody, and I mean _nobody_ tells me what to do."

In the end, Dante followed you all the way back to your own house, where you would allow him to take care of you for a few days.


	18. Times Like These

The fever Dante swore you would get never came. In fact, you felt better than you had in a long time, but perhaps that was because of the fact that, at least for a little while, you allowed yourself to rely on someone else for once. Dante was here to help you with Atlas, and since you viewed him as your equal, you gave him enough credit to be able to actually help you. When you were with James, you always forced yourself to worry about both the case and James's welfare, all on your own. Of course nobody knew of this. 

And now that you had let Dante in, you didn't even have to worry about spending Christmas alone, or telling Dante that you didn't want to spend it with him after all.

In the end, perhaps that was what you should have done instead.

The very moment he realised you weren't going to back down and give in to him when it came to your health, he set you to work at once. 

"Christmas is tomorrow and you haven't even decorated!" was what he had said before rushing over to his own place and coming back with two moist boxes filled with Christmas decorations that was you-don't-even-want-to-guess-how old. From the mouse-eaten holes in not only the carton boxes, but some of the decorations as well, they must have been _very_ old. But then again, you didn't even know how old Dante himself was. He looked to be somewhere between thirty and forty, but who knew how old he actually was, what with his demon blood and all. 

In dismay and disgusted by the state of the box handed to you, you even pulled on a pair of latex gloves before touching it. Obviously it was far too late to begin worrying about acquiring a fear of germs. But just look at all that _mould_. Dante, on the other hand, dove right in, eagerly emptying the contents while reminiscing about all the Christmas memories he had made through the course of the years as he examined each piece of decoration, trying to figure out whether it was worthy of your living room. 

In the end, you weren't the one to decide what was and wasn't worthy. All you got to do was say where and how everything was placed, with Dante for once giving in to your tendencies seeing as how he was practically forcing you into this in the first place. But with that cheerful smile on his face, combined with that stupid jiggle your heart kept doing, and was now allowed to do, it seemed impossible to feel grumpy. 

When everything had been hung up in its allotted spot - Christmas garlands pinned to the tops of the book shelves and doors, some holly stuck to the lamp, festive candles spread throughout the whole house, a creepy Santa Claus toy that began to dance and sing whenever its button was pressed that Dante had strategically placed in the middle of the table - the corner of the room looked rather bare all of a sudden. It was then that the devil hunter spontaneously decided that you needed a Christmas tree and he stormed out of your house. The only thing you heard him yell rather helpfully before he disappeared was, "Christmas tree!"

Thus you were left by yourself in this decorated room, shaking your head at the man's hopelessness. He had even forgotten to close the door behind him. Or he just hadn't felt like it. Whatever the case, you did so for him and, feeling tired all of a sudden, dropped onto the couch and began a staring contest with the spooky Santa, whose face would forever be stuck in that jovial laugh, his face filled with mirth no matter how fucked up his life was. After all, who could possibly enjoy being still for 334 days a year, only to be pulled into the light and put into movement for the last 31 days of the year? Definitely not you. 

Your gaze glided from Santa to the phone lying next to him, and unwilling to recognise the fact that you had just lost that staring contest, you wondered if perhaps you should contact James. After all, it was Christmas tomorrow. It would be the first time in... well, since meeting the boy that you'd spend Christmas without having him annoy the shit out of you about it. He would go on and on and on about this super awesome present he had bought you, hinting that you should get him one too, though you always ended up buying lame last-minute gifts that were practical more than emotional. A bottle opener, something to drink, a letter opener, batteries... Then he'd go on and on about this stupid Christmas party he was going to, and he'd invite you several times and would always look just as upset with every time you shot him down. Somehow, you missed having him scream 'Merry Christmas!' into your ear and forcing you into one of the three mandatory hugs he gave you each year: Christmas, New Year and your birthday.

In the exact same moment that you lifted your hand to reach for the phone, the doorbell rang through the house, effectively making you freeze up. You waited for a few moments, almost expecting that chill running over your skin that had become your way of identifying whether Atlas was in the vicinity, but nothing happened. Perhaps one of his lackeys, then? You launched into the good old debate about why one of the guys chasing you wouldn't ring your doorbell when they were planning on killing you anyway.

Pulling you out of your repeated thoughts, the person behind the door decided to press on that cursed button again. Irritated and disrupted, you got up and stalked over to the front door, once more cursing yourself about that missing peephole you still hadn't managed to get. Perhaps Dante had ordered something, seeing as how he seemed to have made himself rather comfortable in your house in but a few hours.

No thought of yours could have ever prepared you for what actually stood on the other side of that door, though. Maybe you had even preferred that surprise attack from Atlas or one of his dudes. 

"Hello," the person you hadn't seen in years said with a small, sad smile as she lifted her hand to wave at you. 

Your fingers twitched and curled into a fist in order to keep control over your body, lest you might tackle the girl and start to strangle her.

"Hi," you responded coolly to the sister you had wanted to forget.

~~~~

And so it happened that when Dante returned from his search for the perfect Christmas tree, he threw the door open, triumphant, only to back down at the electricity that seemed to hang in the air. His eyes landed on the pair before him: you, sitting on the couch with a sour look on your face, arms crossed under your chest, and a woman he hadn't seen before walking around the room as though she owned it, investigating every corner of the house. 

"Hmm I don't remember you ever being such a fan of Christmas," the stranger noted as she tapped a finger to her chin, confused. If she had managed to not notice Dante's loud entrance, she did not show any signs of acknowledging his presence. 

"Don't worry, Dante. Just ignore this foul creature and put the tree up somewhere." Finally, somebody gave him a hint as to what was happening. Note the sarcasm. 

"Am I allowed to ask what's going on here?" he asked as he slowly crossed the room to the empty corner, trying his best not to turn his back to either of the women. Though the unfamiliar woman hadn't shown any signs of aggression, the fact that she resembled you in certain ways told him that she could probably scratch his eyeballs out just as easily as you could. That in itself was enough for Dante to realise that this woman must be your sister that you hadn't told him about, but he didn't want to come to any hasty conclusions. 

Before you could open your mouth, however, your sister had already replied. "Oh, please don't mind me. Or my sister, for that matter. Just checking in with my only remaining long-lost relative. No, I don't consider our aunts or uncles relatives. You know how I hate old people."

You shot a look at the devil hunter, obviously telling him 'I fucking told you so'. He responded by shrugging and shooting you an innocent grin before he went back to throwing decorations onto the tree.

"And you've gotten yourself a manservant. _Nice_." 

"Now wait just a mi-" Dante began, but was cut off by the looks that you and your sister shot at him. He held his hands up in a defensive manner and finished his sentence with a mutter, "Fine, I have now turned into a manservant."

While your sister remained humorous about the whole situation, ignoring any and all glares you sent her way, you kept on practically pouting, too stubborn to begin a proper conversation. She was the one who had somehow managed to find your address and stalk you, then she would be the one to being explaining, too. Dammit.

But silence continued to reign and your sister only kept on investigating all the books you had acquired over the years, pulling them out, flipping them open and glancing inside before placing them back. Probably on the wrong spot, and probably just to annoy you. It wasn't as if you hadn't lived with her in the same house for the majority of your life, so she knew all the things that managed to get under your skin. 

"Still collecting all these useless books, too," she commented once she was finished with the bookcases.

She investigated the grandfather clock, wiped a finger over it and wasn't surprised to find not a single speck of dusting covering it. No where in your whole house, in fact. She smiled to herself, wondering if there was something that actually _had_ changed with you. Then she noticed the look Dante threw at you and she realised that that was what she had been looking for. She didn't act on it, though, and merely went into the kitchen to continue her search. 

You knew she was trying to act like you, concluding various things about something without actually having to ask about it. Your sister was trying to find out all about your life without her because she was too chicken to ask you herself. How typical of her. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately for you, your sister was no where near as good as you were. 

In fact, she was horrible when it came to this kind of stuff. She was the emotional sister, letting her body take over before her head could think things through. While you concentrated on your mind, preferred logical thinking and never really did anything, your sister went all out trying to be as beautiful as she could and hooking up with as many men who would want her. She was an energetic, unpredictable, bouncing ball of energy while you were a yoyo that kept going the same course over and over again, never stepping out of line. It was no wonder that things hadn't worked between the two of you when you would rather talk about your work while she preferred gushing over men. 

With a long sigh, you finally let up. "How did you get this address anyway?"

"Oh, you know. That cute guy of yours gave it to me when I called him. What was his name? Johnny? Jones? Jamie?"

"James," you corrected her.

"That's the one. Seemed to be delighted to hear my voice, if you ask me. Hasn't he been getting any? I bet you haven't given him the opportunity to go out and find a date," your sister mused, her smile audible in her voice. 

"Justice doesn't wait for lust, if that's what you're asking." And now you were actually feeling guilty for never cutting the poor guy some slack. Who knew what it did to someone when the only women they ever talked to was a seemingly-asexual you. 

"Wow," Dante's voice came from your right, and you jerked away from the source when you looked to the side and saw the half-demon's face centimetres away from yours. "Just, _wow_."

"W-what? What 'wow'?" you stammered, flushing and pushing the man away from you to get some breathing room. 

"Oh, nothing. Except that this lady I've never seen before walks in and half an hour later she's got you feeling emotions. And she's not me. I didn't even know you had a sister until half an hour ago, never mind believing that you could have such a bond with anybody. Yet here you are. I'm so pr-" 

A punch to the face got him to shut up nicely. Your heart beating wildly in your chest, you hoped your sister hadn't heard him, hadn't noticed your moment of weakness. She was your _sister_ , and no matter how much you tried to convince yourself that you hated or despised her, you still loved her and were thankful for all the times she had saved you from your parents. But you liked it very much that she thought you hated her, because people just weren't your best subject. 

However, the sound of laughter coming from the kitchen told you that you had failed in silencing Dante in time. 

"Oh for god's sake," your sister then cried as she came back into the living room, her eyes big and watery as she did so. "We haven't seen each other in _years_. Can't we, like, just put everything behind us? Start over? Fuck, I love you and I know you love me too, so stop pretending you don't. And you only hate me because of how our parents treated us differently, but they're gone now, so I don't get what your problem is."

Abruptly getting up from your couch, you stood before her with an angry look on your face, your hands on your hips. "My problem is-"

But you couldn't finish your sentence. When you tried to recall all the times that you had been mad at your sister, and not just because of your parents, all that came to mind were the times where you had laughed together.

Because of your sister's... promiscuity, she had often had her heart broken by men. And who else would she run to, if it weren't to her older sister? She had been the only one allowed to touch you back in the day, and you had given her your hugs freely, had made her laugh by telling her all the nasty little things you had managed to deduce from her ex-boyfriends' clothes and whatnot. Had told her she deserved better, anyway.

It was only until you had found that the one time you had really, actually, _truly_ needed some help in return and that your sister had dropped you that your reserve of hugs ran out and you refused to open up to anyone ever again, until Dante had come along. 

There, _that_ was the thought you had been searching. Not all the times that she had stood up for you in front of your parents, but the one time she hadn't come to your rescue. That you had been prepared to give the whole world to your sister, but had realised that she, in fact, did not feel the same for you. 

But now you could start over again. How many times had you not cried yourself to sleep, wondering why that what had happened, had happened? Why you hadn't asked your sister herself about it? 'Why weren't you there for me?' Had that been so hard to ask, back then?

What did you have to lose? She could break your heart once more. But then again, so could Dante, and still you trusted him not to. Did this not just count as a practice opportunity to open yourself further to others?

"Hello?" your sister waved her hand in front of your face as she frowned. "Have you realised that there is no problem? That you should just forgive your dear little sister for a mistake she made when she was still young and stupid?" 

Something flashed behind her eyes and you wondered whether she was thinking about the same thing. Was this her way of asking for forgiveness for that one moment when everything had gone wrong? 

"Aw come on, just give her a break. You know, if I were you, and she were my brother, I'd take him back without a second thought. And I know you want to do it, you're just afraid of the possible consequences. Well, fuck the consequences and just go along with it, for once," came Dante's interruption from behind you on the sofa, his nose still red from the punch you had given him moments ago. 

And then with another long sigh, you relaxed and gave in. "Fine."

Your sister gave a high-pitched squeal that hurt your ears before she launched herself at you, crying and sniffling and all. You managed to dodge her at the last moment, however, and she ended up crashing to the floor with a scream. 

"But no hugging, got it?"

You hadn't seen Dante coming, though, so when his lips met yours in a quick kiss, you were taken aback and almost stepped on your sister as you took a step back. 

"I'm proud of you," he managed to say before he jumped out of range so that the punch you threw his way missed him. Bloody bastard, you'd get him yet.


	19. Straylight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any and all squirrels appearing in this story are me implementing my lovely friend into this story. Because she asked for it. Just ignore the silliness, or at least raise your brow and question my sanity, but please enjoy the rest~

That night, 'the night before Christmas', you hardly slept, but that was no surprise. Your sister slept downstairs on the couch in the company of creepy Santa, while Dante slept on a mattress in your room. The close proximity was enough to make you nervous, especially since he had not taken no for an answer when he had asked for a bedtime kiss. But then again, you wanted to give him a kiss and he knew that, otherwise he wouldn't have pushed you into it. You had to overcome your boundaries somehow.

The fact that tomorrow would be the first time you actually celebrated Christmas in a somewhat-normal manner did not help your falling asleep. Dante slept right through all of your tossing and turning, snoring softly as he dreamed about who knew what. Strippers, perhaps. 

Though none of you had gotten presents, your sister had been adamant in making a proper Christmas dinner and putting your kitchen table to use for once. You couldn't even remember ever having used it for food, to be very honest. Eating at a table hadn't really mattered, since you had had case reports to go through and no one to accompany you during dinner time, anyway. 

But that all was going to change, wasn't it? You had already found Dante. And now your sister was back in your life, too. For better or for worse, you weren't quite sure just yet. 

Through all this, you wondered if you shouldn't invite James as well. Then you remembered that he would probably going out to some party or other, and that you didn't want to put him in the dilemma of having to choose between you and a party. As if you could win a competition like that, anyway. But still, you couldn't help but feel guilty, especially with your sister constantly having asked after him, wondering out loud whether he would come. 

When morning had finally arrived, and a time came where it would be socially acceptable to get out of bed, you quickly and quietly got up. Throwing a quick glance towards Dante and seeing that he was still fast asleep, his back turned to you, you got dressed and then made your way downstairs, counting the steps as you went.

Your sister was also still asleep on the sofa. A good portion of the blankets you had given her so that she wouldn't get cold had been thrown off during the course of the night, littering the floor around her and part of the table. Even creepy Santa had somehow managed to catch a blanket, though you weren't sure whether this had been done on purpose or whether it had been an accident. 

Not waking her up, you tiptoed into the kitchen to find something to eat. When you had made yourself a sandwich, making sure that you spread the same amount of butter on both slices of bread and arranging the pieces of cheese and ham and whatnot in a manner that they covered the whole surface but did not overlap each other, you left the house through the backdoor and, after dusting the snow off of it, went to sit on one of the chairs that had already stood there when you had moved in. There was nothing like watching the beginning of the day when the majority of the population in this time zone still slept and the only sound that filled the air came from birds and other animals, with only an occasional car somewhere in the distance.

As you were munching away on your piece of bread, you noticed a squirrel wearing... underwear on its head? It was sitting in one of the trees in the unkempt garden. It almost seemed as though it was staring at you, which made you frown. When the squirrel jumped out of sight to the back of the tree, you shrugged and continued eating your breakfast. It didn't take much longer before it appeared again, circling around the trunk while it tried to get down, and you wondered why it didn't just jump down or walk down in a straight line. 

Whatever the case, it stopped at the base of the tree, half buried in snow, and twitched its nose a few times as it looked around, as though it were examining its surroundings. Like it had had a wild night out and in a drunken fit had climbed into this tree, only to wake up with a hangover and no clue as to where the hell it was.

You smirked at the image of a partying squirrel and didn't notice that, while you continued to munch on your sandwich, the animal had slowly gotten closer to you, walking in a wobbly line. You only realised it had moved when it stood right before you and looked up at you with squinted eyes. Was that because the sun was so bright or because this squirrel was actually glaring at you for some reason or other? 

There was no time left to contemplate this matter, for the squirrel launched itself at you all of a sudden. It landed on your knee, grabbed the final corner of your sandwich and it dashed away again, onto the table standing next to your chair. When it had reached the very end of the platform, it began to nibble at your bread while you stared at it in disbelief. The squirrel saw your look and it was almost as if it raised its eyebrow at you in a silent challenge while it kept on devouring your breakfast. What a cheeky little bastard.

However, you felt like you were having a good day, so you leaned back instead of trying to murder this beast and just admired the sight of this tiny demon in squirrel-form eating your food. It had probably had a rough night, anyway. 

"Yo, what're you doing?" came Dante's voice from behind and above you.

Turning around, you saw that he hung out of your bedroom window, his bare chest almost shining in the bright morning light. Oh how you just wanted to - no, stop, don't go there. Not yet at least. You weren't sure whether you were hallucinating or not, but you could have sworn that you heard a low whistle coming from the squirrel behind you. 

"Oh, you know, the usual. Having my breakfast stolen by an evil squirrel," you replied, pressing a hand against your forehead to shade your eyes from the surprisingly bright sun as you looked up at the man. 

Dante rested his elbow on the sill, his hand cupping his chin. He shook his head and made a tutting sound before replying, "Oh, those critters can be evil all right. Especially when they're demons in squirrel-form."

You swung back round to stare at the squirrel again, who had still not finished eating that tiny corner of your sandwich. It looked at you with big, round, cute, innocent eyes and may or may not have lifted its shoulders in a shrug. You may or may not need some sleep. 

Dante's laughed became muffled as he closed the window and you knew he would be coming downstairs soon. After all, there were probably still some preparations he wanted to go through before you could officially celebrate Christmas this evening. Still weird to think that this would be the first Christmas in ages that you would actually celebrate. Even just thinking of hanging up decorations would have been a huge step forward from the previous years. 

After a while, a squeal from inside pulled you out of your reveries. Noticing that the cheeky squirrel had disappeared, leaving nothing but foot - paw? - prints behind in the snow, you got up and went back inside. Your fingers were almost turning blue from the cold anyway. 

In the living room, Dante stood with his back turned towards your sister, his hands covering his eyes and ears as she quickly got dressed, her face red.

"Funny. Considering your way of handling nakedness, I had thought your sister wouldn't mind me seeing her in her jammies," he mused out loud, the smirk visible in his voice.

"I told you not to listen!" your sister squeaked at him. "I actually consider my body in a sexual way. As if my older sister, who is all about being logical and whatnot, would ever think of using hers in that way."

"I'm not listening," Dante retorted, but he didn't explain any further. You guessed he was probably referring to the fact that he had once told you that his hearing was better, and thus putting a hand on his ears wouldn't actually stop him from hearing everything? "And you're wrong there."

He murmured that last part and probably hadn't meant for you to hear it, but you did. Turning to hide your blush from the others even though Dante couldn't see and your sister had her back turned to you as she hopped about, trying to get her pants on as fast as possible. 

When you came close enough to Dante to touch him, he released his head and instead wrapped his arms around you, pulling him close to his chest. In a reflex, you held your breath and froze up at the close proximity before realising that it was Dante, that nothing was going to happen and that you should at least try to relax. 

"This is nice, isn't it?" he murmured into your hair, his fingers rubbing annoying circles on your arms as though that would help you right now. But you knew he was just trying to get this thing to work, and you wanted it to do so, too, somehow... The two of you would never get anywhere if all you did was wait, right? 

You forced yourself to lift your stiff arms around his huge body to grab the back of those useless buckles since he wasn't wearing his red coat right now. You almost let out a sigh of relief when you finally began to enjoy the closeness, but a cough from next to you interrupted the moment and you jumped away, your hands in the air in a defensive manner.

"You know, sister, it's never a good idea to get romantically involved with your manservant," your sister said with a disapproving look, shaking her head as she did so. 

"You should see the way I serve her in bed in a very manly way, now that's what I call being a manservant," Dante shot back at her, letting out a bark of laughter at the look you gave him. 

Your sister only grinned while you hid your face in your hands and listened to the rest of the conversation. 

"So, what do you say, manservant, want to help me buy some stuff for a proper Christmas dinner?" 

"Hell no, I'm not just anybody's manservant. Ya gotta earn me."

"Dammit, I always get the bad ones and sis tries it once and immediately hits the jackpot. This just isn't fair."

More laughter filled the air and you realised too late that your sister and Dante were a combination one should avoid at all costs.

~~~~

In the end, the three of you had all gone shopping together, bickering all about what you should and shouldn't eat, how much was or wasn't needed, who was or wasn't allergic to what, or who just generally did or didn't like certain foods. A large amount of that bickering included talk about the past, for apparently the two of you had changed a lot since your years of living together. 

Dante sat in the middle of all this, but he didn't seem to mind. Instead, he carefully listened to all that you and your sister had to say, joking here and there but mostly just finding it interesting to hear about the younger version of you. This was much to your embarrassment, of course. As if you wanted him to know all about the stupid things you had done and said when you had been young and inexperienced in the ways of the world. 

Of course a trip to the shop ended up putting a large strain on your OCD as well, which often ended up in you shifting packages around in not only your cart, but the shelves as well. That, in itself, always ended in your sister snatching things out of your hand and putting them back _just so_ that she knew it bothered you, but didn't allow you to fix it. 

"You've got to get over it someday, sis," she offered with an apologetic smile, though you knew that behind the kind smile she was cackling in mirth. You refrained from telling her for the umpteenth time that OCD wasn't something one could simply 'get over someday'. 

Somehow, the three of you had ended up managing to collect enough ingredients to make a proper Christmas meal. Your sister had already promised that she'd be the one cooking, but you knew for sure that you would end up being the one to do everything while she lazed around, drinking from that bottle of champagne she had put in the cart, as she told you what you were supposed to do. Or you could just put your 'manservant' to the test and see what he knew of cooking a meal that consisted of more than just meat or a pizza. 

It was between two and three in the afternoon when you entered the house again, carrying a pair of grocery bags. Your sister had given hers to Dante, who looked like an actual manservant right about now, peeking through the pile of bags to watch where he was going. You didn't pity him; it was his own fault for offering to carry them in the first place. 

After emptying all the bags by yourself - Dante and your sister had given you full reign over where and how everything was placed in the kitchen - your sister began to prepare the food. Dante and you, in the meanwhile, went on to clean the ground floor of your house, though there wasn't much cleaning that needed to be done seeing as it was _your_ ground floor. 

Much to your surprise, your sister kept true to her promise of cooking, and rarely asked you for your help. Even the bottle of champagne remained untouched until later that evening. It made you marvel at how much she had grown up after all. And while she was in the kitchen, Dante and you conquered the couch and ended up staring at the ceiling - well, he was staring; you were counting every little speck you could find as if you hadn't already done so a million times before - while his fingers danced about on your hand, wanting to hold it but not quite daring to. 

"Why don't you have a TV, again?" he asked you in exasperation, a digit dipping down to caress the sensitive skin of your palm. 

"Because it'll only distract you when you actually need to work," you responded and twitched your hand to get him away from it, making him start his dance all over again. 

"But you don't even have a laptop or computer. How do you keep in contact with the world?"

"I go outside, you know. I do things the way people did them ages ago when they didn't even have streetlamps." 

Dante raised an eyebrow at that and sat up a little to stare into your eyes, beckoning you to tell him the truth. 

"Fine. There was a computer at the office that I used to check the news. Who's got time to actually read the papers these days when you can just handpick what you want to know about?" you finally let out, to which Dante shot you a knowing grin. 

Feeling at peace and having been forced by Dante to just take this one day off - after all, it was Christmas! - you thought that the evening couldn't get any better than this when you began to smell the fruits of your sister's work in the kitchen. 

You were proven wrong, however, when the doorbell rang and you fell into what had become your usual what-if-it-is-Atlas-or-one-of-his-goons debate in which you always came to the same conclusion. Dante could have opened the door a few hundred times by the time you got up to make your way to the door, but he had closed his eyes and was pretending to be asleep. You punched him in the stomach before sauntering to the other side of the room and opening the door. 

It seemed that some kind of theme was being born here, where you were to open the door only to be surprised by who was standing on the other side.

"James?!" you almost gasped at the young man standing before you, a shy grin on his face. 

"Hi Boss," he said in that awkward manner of his as he rubbed the tip of his shoe against the pavement beneath him.

Then he held out his hand for you, and after you slowly grasped it, he said, "Merry Christmas."

A whistle from behind you interrupted the 'conversation', and Dante yelled, "Get a room!"

Before you could reply, your sister had pulled you inside, which caused you to pull James inside since you were still holding his hand. Then your sister forced you to release him, placed a hand on your shoulder and one on James's and pressed the two of you together, not caring whether she hurt either of you.

"There. Much better," your sister said with pride, nodding to herself before she went back into the kitchen.

Dante was laughing his head off as you and James were stuck to each other in an awkward embrace, both of you noting how you weren't pushing him away from you in disgust. Baby steps, right? 

You relaxed when you heard Dante leave to keep your sister company while you talked this out with James, and you were planning on doing just that now that you had been given the chance. 

"I'm sorry," you murmured into his chest, only now realising just how tall he had grown. Had he always been this big, or had he had some kind of growth spurt after you had left? 

"'s all right. You probably had a valid reason for doing what you did, and I shouldn't have questioned you," James replied and pulled away to look at you while you shook your head.

"No, that's not right. You shouldn't always follow me without asking questions, that's not good either. You're not my student anymore, so we should start working as equals."

Now James had never been able to boast about his extraordinary amount of manliness, but when tears started to fill his eyes you couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at him.

"Don't look at me like that! You have no idea what it means to hear you say that," he stammered and wiped at his eyes to get rid of the tears. You merely smiled and shook your head at him in response. 

You were positive that nothing could break your day anymore.

~~~~

James's arrival explained why your sister had been so adamant in buying what seemed to be far too much food for a dinner that was supposed to feed only three people. She and Dante had been planning this all along.

Well, whatever the case, you were rather thankful for it. You didn't want to think what would have happened to the two of you if they hadn't brought you back together. You hadn't actually envisioned the consequences of your grand departure to be the end of the dynamic duo that was James and you. 

For this, he had most likely even dropped some other Christmas party, which made it obvious how important your relationship was to him. Even just the possibility of hooking up with some woman was enough to turn his brain off, after all. 

Dinner was amazing. You were too busy admiring the taste of the food to actually be proud of your sister, or to wonder where she had acquired these skills in the first place. You had even talked yourself into drinking a glass of champagne, when normally you were disgusted by only the thought of alcohol. Mostly out of fear of becoming drunk and doing things you'd never do when sober, but today you'd let yourself have one glass, because it seemed appropriate. For one night, you felt like a normal person, and you looked like one too, if you ignored the shotgun that sat in the corner of the room. 

Once everyone had finished eating, you had had to roll the others to the living room, since they had eaten the most. You had still felt too guilty for taking this day off in the first play to eat more than you needed to, as some form of punishment. When everyone was 'seated' - Dante and you on the couch, James on the armchair and your sister bouncing around the room - James produced a bag of gifts as if out of thin air. 

"You didn't think we were going to celebrate Christmas without presents, did you?" he asked when he saw your expression. 

"But I..." you began, but stopped yourself just in time. Yes, you _did_ have a present for him. 

You rushed back into the kitchen and opened a few cupboards before you found what you had been searching: a small, black box. You had purchased it a few months back with the idea of giving it to James at Christmas because you had vaguely remembered something about him mentioning that he likes these things. 

After accepting the small box and lifting the lid off, James was surprised to see a pen that had been fashioned in some weird manner that the kids these days called 'steampunk', whatever the hell that may be. 

James, however, seemed to love it and he beamed up at you as he exclaimed, "You remembered that I told you I liked steampunk?" 

"James, you know, I remember _everything_ ," you responded with a sly grin as you reclaimed your position next to Dante, who casually lifted his arm as though he were stretching himself, only to place it over your shoulders. You allowed him to do so, calling it your Christmas present to him. 

James's gift for you was a scarf, and he helpfully added that you always were the first to get sick in Winter because you never wore the proper attire for such cold weather. Your sister's present was a complimentary hat that both you and she knew you would never put on, but you remembered that the two of you had never given each other serious presents. It had always been about who could embarrass the other the most. 

It seemed that James had known about this, somehow, for he produced a funny-shaped package out of his magic bag and handed it to you to give to your sister. 

All he said was, "You owe me."

Your sister unwrapped it to find out that it was a dildo, and the only thing better than seeing her fumble with it and trying to play it off cool by saying she had been thinking of buying one of those was the thought of James buying it. 

You and Dante didn't exchange any gifts, but neither of you had expected it so it didn't really matter. For the first time in ages, you felt content and happy. You considered that enough of a gift for the next ten years. 

The Christmas spirit was interrupted for the last time when someone knocked on the door once more. With a frown, you looked at your sister, who shrugged. The looks on the faces of the others told you that nobody knew who it was.

Perhaps...

 _No_. They would not knock if they were here to kill you. How many times did you have to tell yourself that? 

All you could think of when you opened the door was, _I fucking told you so_. 

Blondie stood there, a smirk on his face as he watched you contemplate your next move.

"Sis, who is it?"

"Boss?"

It was Dante who saved the day in that moment, for you heard his deep voice whispering something to the others, followed by footsteps going away from you. 

"What's going on?" your sister had to ask, though, and she stopped walking just as Blondie took a step towards you.

"RUN!" you yelled, but it was too late.

Blondie had launched himself at you at an inhuman speed, his hand that felt suspiciously like a claw grasping your throat as he propelled you backward with him on top of you, but you never actually hit the floor. In a display of power, he lifted you into the air with one arm, the muscles in his arm rippling under your sweaty palms as you tried to get him to let go of you. When that didn't work, your hands reflexively grasped for your guns, only to find that you didn't have them on you. 

Shit shit shit. 

Your sister suddenly screamed, and it seemed that she had somehow managed to slide past Dante, back into the living room and was now staring at your back as you struggled to kick your legs at Blondie's disgusting face. 

You saw his eyes shift from yours to your sister's and you couldn't bear to think of what would happen if he got a hold of her, so you yelled once more, "DANTE!"

In a red flash, your hero had entered the scene, tackling Blondie, still holding you and all, to the ground. You had managed to throw your arms up just in time, saving your head from yet another hit. The hand that had held onto your throat disappeared and you rolled away from the grappling men. 

Before you got up and ran towards your sister, you noticed the fury on Dante's face, the way his form almost seemed to change right before your eyes and you shuddered at the thought of having fallen in love with such a powerful being. It wasn't that you were afraid of him, just... 

No time to think! Still gasping for breath from the hold on your neck, you ran towards your sister who was staring at the fight with wide eyes, her body trembling all over.

"It's going to be all right," you murmured as you pushed her into the kitchen where a distraught-looking James was hiding in the corner. Dante's serious look had probably tipped him off that something bad was happening. 

He took a look at your throat that had already begun to turn red and shuddered.

"What is that?" he whispered, feeling the strength that filled the air just by Blondie's presence. Plus, he knew that Dante was in the living room, trying his best to beat the bastard to a pulp, and it was taking him far longer than James would have liked.

"You wouldn't believe me anyway, so just stay put," you murmured as you holstered your pistols and grabbed your grandfather's shotgun. 

The two of them nodded and so you raced back to the living room, where you saw that your table had been ruined and your couch had fallen onto its back. Thankfully the bookshelves had been spared... for now. Blondie had gotten up in an attempt to overpower the devil hunter, but he had jumped up just as fast in order to defend himself.

"Dante!" you called out, hoping that he had Blondie under control enough that he wouldn't come for you again. 

The half demon acknowledged your presence with the glance of an eye. He had caught Blondie's fists and was now busy with wrapping his arms around the struggling demon-thing, trying to get his back to face you so that you could take the shot. Dante hadn't been expecting the company either and had left his guns somewhere else, too. How could they have been so stupid?

You aimed the shotgun at Blondie's back and pulled the trigger, the recoil making your body ache all over, but you didn't stop and emptied all the ammo that you had on you in that moment. You ignored the sweat that dripped into your eye, the pain that shooting this weapon caused in all your wounds that hadn't healed yet, the fear of Blondie turning around and ripping your heart out of your chest.

With every bullet that hit Blondie's back, he threw his head back and yowled in pain. The sound was inhuman and hurt your ears, but you grit your teeth together and paid him no heed. You blocked out even Dante's face contorting with pain as he, too, began to feel the effect of the shotgun being shot at the guy he was holding, but you were too afraid to die to worry about him and hoped he could hold out long enough for you to take care of him when this bugger was dead. 

When the bastard stopped moving and slumped down into Dante's hold after you had hit him with your last bullet, you dropped the shotgun to the ground, panting and shivering as though you had just run a marathon.

You looked Dante over, noticed the blood splatters on his body and could only hope they weren't his, but you didn't dare to go any closer to him since he was still holding Blondie, albeit a bit wobbly. He was breathing heavily himself, too, and when he had made sure the demon no longer moved, he placed him on the floor and stepped over him to get to you. 

"Are you all right?" he asked at once, not caring for his own wellbeing and immediately taking hold of your chin to inspect the mark on your throat.

"I'm fine. What about you?" you shot back at him, pulling his hands away and beginning to unbuckle the clasps on his stomach, only to have him stop you.

"Don't worry-" he began and cut himself off with a yell as he was pulled away and propelled out of the door.

Mere moments later you fell to the ground, blood from Blondie pouring all over you as he practically lay on top of you. He hissed something unintelligible into your ear, causing the hairs on your arms to stand up. Then he dug his nails, or claws, into your shoulders as he watched the pain appear on your face with a smirk.

Your scream of pain finally forced your sister and James out of hiding, and became mingled with that of your sister as the two of them stood in the doorway to watch in horror as you writhed in pain under this... monster that had the remains of a gaping hole in his stomach. Blondie looked up at the sound and locked his eyes onto your sister. You could almost see the gears in his head turning and wanted to shout "No!", wanted to grab him before he could leave you, but you seemed to be moving in slow-motion.

In his jump towards your sister, James was thrown out of the way. He smacked against the wall and fell to the ground, motionless. This caused your sister to scream once more, and then again even louder when she was grasped by Blondie. She struggled against his hold, but of course this didn't bring anything as he dragged her along with him to the middle of the living room.

"This is for almost killing me," he said with a laugh and he slammed his hand into her back. She no longer made a sound other than a whimper as she watched the claws of the monster coming out of her stomach. 

Everything went blank after that.

Without thinking, you grabbed the gun Dante had given you and without actually looking, shot once more at Blondie. 

The grin remained on his face even as a trickle of blood slid down in between his eyes, ran down his nose, moved over his lips and dripped off his chin onto your sister's head. He crossed his eyes to look at the sudden redness that became visible in the inner corners of his vision. While he did so, probably a bit slow of all the blood loss, he didn't notice you coming closer to him.

You didn't know when you had gotten off the floor, or even how, but your senses came back at the right moment. You roughly grabbed him by his hair and, fuelled by adrenaline and rage, yanked him up by the tuft you were holding, which made him release your sister. Then you pressed your gun to the side of his head and without blinking, pulled the trigger one last time.

Blondie's eyes rolled into the back of his head just as his body began to dissolve and turn into a pile of ash you could trample on later.

Immediately after, you reached for the phone that lay next to creepy Santa, lying on his side next to the broken table, and at once dialled the emergency number. Half a minute later, an ambulance was on its way.

Dante chose that moment to stagger into the room, his face falling when he noticed the state of you and your sister. You were about to get up and go to him, but he shook his head and sat next to you before you could stand. 

"You all right?" he asked in a low voice as he helped you tear off your sister's clothes so that you could use them to stop the bleeding. It didn't look _very_ bad, there was still a chance she would make it. 

"I think you're worse off," you replied while looking him over, but the conversation stopped when your sister stirred and opened her eyes.

"Sis..." she grumbled and you shifted so that you could pull her head onto your lap. "What was that? That wasn't... human, was it?"

"Shh, don't talk," you murmured as you brushed some hair out of her face.

Tears escaped the corners of her eyes and in your state of mild panic, you began to count them. 

_One. Two. Three four... Five, six, seven..._

"Sis, I'm scared," she whispered hoarsely and you stroked her head in an attempt to keep both of you calm.

"Don't be. Help's on the way, you're going to be fine."

"But if I'm not, I want to say... sorry. For everything. And that... I love you."

Dante's hand found yours and squeezed it, but he remained silent as he watched you hold back your own tears.

"I forgive you, and I love you too," you replied with a small smile, after which your sister closed her eyes again. 

You let her, for you could hear sirens somewhere in the distance. 

Merry Christmas.


	20. That Makes One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for anybody who does not enjoy such things: mature content ahead!

Hospitals. Again. But this time, it wasn't for you, though they had patched up your shoulder and given you some pills or other. No, this time was different. You had things to _lose_ this time. It was then that you realised how much you had changed since the last time you laid in a bed in this building, and all just because you had met one handsome man. Yet because of that, you were here. And you cared. You might get crushed, again. Was this really that much better than not caring at all?

Staring down at your sister in that bed, listening to the nerve-wrecking beeping of the surrounding machinery, smelling the nauseating stench that almost seemed to promise certain death... You wondered whether _your_ visitors had felt the same. If you had even had any visitors, that is.

The sight of James sitting by the bed, gently rubbing circles on the pale skin of your sister's writs, told you otherwise. You were almost certain that he had done the same for you. And then you looked down at your own hand and saw that of a half-demon holding it, fingers moving in the same reassuring patterns. He might have made you care, but he had also given you care in return.

"So..." James began, his voice raspy from disuse. He cleared his throat before he tried again. "When do you plan on explaining all of this?"

You swallowed hard, your fingers twitching in Dante's grasp. He gave you a squeeze in return, told you that he could help out if needed. But no, you felt responsible. You had brought all these people together, just to end up here on Christmas Eve. You owed James at least this much.

"You... remember how I hypothesised that our culprit was neither animal nor human?" you asked him, carefully gauging the man's reaction.

At the flash of realisation in his eyes, you felt proud. But you had to say it all, just in case. Misunderstandings were the last thing you needed right now. 

"Somehow, Dante and I have come to the conclusion that I wasn't exactly wrong." Another squeeze of your hand in an attempt to give you enough courage for what you were about to say. You had held this back because you hadn't wanted them to think you crazy. But then again, James had seen it with his own eyes, there was no way he could come to such a conclusion. "Apparently, demons exist. And we're up against a demon, here. What makes it worse is that the one we're up against, not the one who attacked us, that's one of his... underlings, is called Atlas and they can shift into human form and... well, we have reason to suspect that the Chief is actually a demon in human form."

James's bark of laughter filling the otherwise-sombre room snapped you out of whatever daze you had been stuck in as you explained the truth to him. You frowned as you looked at him, his hand still holding that of your sister while his other clutched his stomach as he chuckled at your words. Dante shrugged when you glanced at him in confusion, not able to offer you any more help. 

He continued to laugh at what you had said, trying to talk in between chuckles. "Of all... the times you have... to start joking... right? Are you... trying to lighten... the mood or what? Fuck, you're not joking are you, tell me you're joking, fuck!" 

The laughing turned into swearing, but he didn't ask for proof, didn't doubt a word that had been uttered. On the one hand, that made you feel relieved, yet on the other you realised that you thought he should have at least asked how you knew. Or perhaps he had such infallible trust in you and your judgement, that he found he had no reason to question you. Whatever the case, at least he had not claimed that you were insane. 

A silence hung in the air when he finished muttering curses. Instead, everyone went to stare at the still body lying before them, your sister's chest rising, slow and steady. The only sign that she had not died yet, next to the constant bleeping of the machinery that reminded everyone in the room that her heart had yet to stop beating. 

"You know, she told me that she had practised making this meal every year so that, one day, she could make it for you when she finally felt herself worthy enough to reunite with you. Because she knew how picky you are of what you eat, and that you rarely let anybody do the cooking for you," James whispered after a while. As if you did not already feel guilty enough in this moment. 

"Please stop," you murmured in response, your fingers clutching at Dante's as you took a step closer to the bed, your other hand resting on the sheets at her feet.

James ignored you, however, and carried on. "She always called me to check up on you. She knew all along where you lived, but didn't have the courage to visit you. She heard about what you had been up to through me, because she was too scared to show herself to you, because she knew she had hurt you."

"James..." You felt your eyes burn and you mentally screamed at yourself that you were. _not. going. to. cry._

"And when she finally does... She ends up here..." A sob wracked your companion's body before you yourself could burst out in tears at the silent accusation hidden under his words. "Why didn't you tell me any earlier? Is this why you left without a word?" 

"Because... I thought I would bring you into danger." Well, look at how that worked out. "And you know what people think of me, you should know it even better than I do, since they talk about me to _you_. Do you honestly believe any of them would not have put me in an institute if I had come running, yelling the Chief is a demon in disguise? Do you believe _you_ wouldn't have done the same if you hadn't seen it firsthand? Yes, I left without telling you any of that because of that, but also because you still have all your career and life before you. I would not have forgiven myself had I been the one to ruin everything for you," you replied. Your hand gripped the sheets as you forced yourself to not avert your gaze from that of James. He glanced towards Dante, standing behind you, and the sound of a shift in a leather jacket told you that the man nodded to assure the boy that you had spoken the truth. Of course now you felt insulted that James did not trust your word. Woman, did you even know what you wanted?

"You're like, only ten years older than I am," was all he said in response before he sighed, his shoulders slumping as he did so, and he turned his head to look at your sister again. No miraculous change in her condition in these few moments of distraction. The nurses had said it was a wonder she was even alive, even more so that her condition was relatively stable. None of you could even remember what the excuse was that you had come up with to explain the wounds everyone was sporting: your bruised neck from having been choked, James's small head wound from hitting the wall. Dante seemed to be the only one who actually looked fine, but somehow you seemed to doubt it.

"I... I think we should head back home for now. You'll call if anything changes, won't you?" you asked as you let go of the sheets and took a step back, away from the bed. "You're always welcome in my house, if you wish."

James only nodded in response, not even looking up from your sister's form. For a split second you wondered if perhaps something more went on between the two of them, and it only made you feel worse. You hoped that they'd forgive you, someday, and that everything would go back to normal someday. You realised that, if you had to give up your own life to make it happen, you would do so without hesitation. 

"Don't do anything stupid, kid," Dante said before he let you tug him out of the room, waiting patiently for you as you completed your weird rituals before walking through doorways.

~~~~

You didn't say anything, neither of you did, as you pulled him closer to you. Even in the vicinity of your own house you kept everything bottled up inside of you. Instead, you concentrated on the buckles of his outfit, the only thing betraying the slight tremor in your fingers. Why did he have buckles, anyway? The vest under his jacket already had a zipper to close it, why would anybody add buckles on top of that?

Your eyebrows dipped down into a frown as you fumbled with the blasted objects, until he lifted his hands and encased yours with his, your fingers curling up against your palm. They were much bigger than yours, completely engulfing them with ease, so steady and warm that they managed to stop the quivers just like that. 

"What are you doing?" he asked, lowering his head so that his nose pressed against your shoulder, his breath tickling your ear as he spoke. He didn't ask what was wrong, didn't prompt you to talk about your feelings. Simply asked what you were planning on doing, trying to get him undressed like this. 

"I hurt you," you murmured without looking at him. You directed your glare to a spot on the wall. It took you a while to realise that the spot consisted of some of James's blood from where his head had hit the wall. "I want to make sure you're fine."

"You don't have to worry about me," Dante retorted before he laughed and straightened himself as if that would prove to you that he wasn't wounded. 

It didn't work, however, and you simply pulled your hands from his grasp - his hold on you was anything but strong - to try opening the buckles once more. This time, Dante went for your wrists, holding them too tight for you to fight back but not tight enough to hurt you, and he held them up to his face as he trailed soft kisses across the palms of your hands. He stared at you with those eyes of his as he did so, and you could almost swear that your stomach did a flip. 

"For me?" you whispered, your voice cracking under the pressure of the emotional turmoil inside of you. Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment and you quickly looked away from him, but Dante seemed too distracted with something else as he let out a groan at your plea. 

"Fine, but I'm not helping you."

And somehow, in the course of the next hour or so as you figured out how Dante's clothes worked, the two of you ended up lying on your couch. You straddled a half-naked Dante, your hands roaming his torso like they had been wanting to do since meeting him while your mouth claimed his. His cloak had been hastily thrown to the ground where all this began and the buckles and vest had disappeared during the trip to the couch, where you had tugged off his gloves before discovering the terrain of his upper body that, contrary to Dante's words, _did_ sport a few recent injuries. When your hands slipped down to his belt and began to try and tug it free, Dante reached for your wrists again to hold you back. As he did so, he managed to flip you over so that you were lying beneath him, without falling off the rather narrow confines of the sofa.

"What do you think you're doing?" he murmured, breathing heavily as his lips morphed into a smirk. "You only wanted to see whether I was injured, didn't you?" 

"And you are," you retorted, as though that would get you out of this situation. 

And it did, for your demeanour had seemed to change all of a sudden at the reminder of what you had wanted to do. Dante released you and, with a groan, watched you saunter off into the kitchen to get that first-aid kit again. It was getting a lot of action these days, wasn't it? 

Settling down next to him as though nothing had happened prior to this moment, you took a look at the various lacerations on his abdomen. You trailed a finger across them as you reminded yourself that he had gotten these but a few hours ago, yet they had already disappeared almost completely. The only thing that remained was the blood that must have gushed out of the wounds that had been there a while ago. As you stared at the skin, you wondered if you could see the cuts disappear before your very eyes. 

Just to satiate your own guilt, not being able to get it inside of your head that this didn't have to be the result of him holding the late Blondie - that made one, two more to go now - while you had fired your shotgun at him, you treated the little gashes as though they had the capability of killing the half-demon if left alone. You ignored any and all protests from the man himself, always swatting his hands away as he tried to stop you, until he gave up with a sigh and let you do your thing. Instead, he watched as you cleaned the blood away, disinfected every scratch you could find and finally covered them all, wrapping bandages in perfect lines across his body and redoing the whole process many times because it didn't feel right and you feared that he might die anyway if you didn't get it just right. He didn't even bother commenting on it anymore after the third do-over. 

When you finally felt that you were done, you patted him twice on his back before you got up to put the kit back in the kitchen. Dante remained silent as he watched you go back and forth. Until now, he had yet to comment on the sudden burst of a make-out session that had definitely come from your side. When you were sitting next to him again, avoiding eye contact as much as possible, he decided the time had come. 

Leaning with his elbow against the back of the couch, his hand cupping his cheek, he took on a graceful pose as the corners of his lips quirked up into another smirk. Before he could open his mouth to say anything, however, you had already pressed your mouth against his once more. You switched positions so that you were sitting on his lap, a knee next to each leg, as you pushed him against the back of the sofa. Your fingers busied themselves by tracing the bandages you had only just put there while Dante pressed his hands against your back, pulling you as close as possible, rubbing against you in more ways than one. Unlike the last time, you weren't ashamed. No, this time you kissed him with a passion as though this were the last chance you would get to do so, moaning softly every time he nipped at your lower lip or when he became distracted by the bruises on your neck that he thought deserved some careful attention as well, the stubble on his jaw leaving tiny scratches on your skin. 

Something that you could only describe as arousal stirred inside of you and, without thinking, your digits reached for his belt again, only for Dante's hands to capture yours once more. He had opened his eyes and was staring at you, an eyebrow raised at the desperation in your gaze. 

"I don't think you want to do this now," he murmured, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine as you fought against his grip. You didn't want to think about anything else right now, and he knew it. Knew you were only searching a distraction and that anything would do. 

Or were you? Perhaps you truly were ready, only at the worst possible moment. You just couldn't forget that moment when Dante had attacked Blondie to save you. The anger on his face, the way he had almost seemed desperate to protect you. He must have been afraid to lose you, and somehow, for some reason, it stirred something inside of you. You didn't want to admit it, but the thought of this man wanting to keep you safe... well, it turned you on. 

You raised yourself so that Dante had to crane his neck to follow your lips. Your arms wrapped themselves around his neck as you pulled him close to you, bending down to capture his mouth in another kiss. Your hair fell over your shoulder and tickled his bare skin as you pulled back slightly, your lips hovering over his as you whispered, "I need you. _Now._ "

Consequences be damned. Your body was screaming for this, so loud that you couldn't hear what your mind wanted. Not that it would have mattered, since for once both mind and body were in tandem on this particular subject in this particular moment. 

Dante let out a growl as he bit your lips before he hoisted you up so that you were now resting on his hardness, the sudden pressure eliciting a moan from you. Breaking contact to press his forehead against your collarbone, he ground out, "I can't hold back if you keep saying things like that."

A sudden stillness captured the two of you, unmoving as you sat in silence, relishing the quenched yearning of your body. You ran your mind over the situation a few times, tried to think this through, but came to the same conclusion each and every time. Dante watched the expression of thoughtfulness unfold on your face, asked himself what was going on inside of that pretty head of yours. He was both thrilled and disgruntled by the answer you had gotten from yourself. 

You began to kiss him once more, this time with even more gusto it seemed, your tongue not even asking for permission to enter his mouth and instead slipping past his lips before he could respond. Dante reacted by grinding his hips into yours as he groaned. A reflex, for he was still waiting for a verbal answer from you.

"I want you to fuck my like no one else has," you murmured in between kisses, your eyes not averting contact with his. "Which shouldn't be very difficult, considering you-"

His lips found the nape of your neck and began to suck at the spot, careful not to disrupt the bandages of your shoulder. You gasped in response and shivered when he spoke, his voice laced with want, no, _need_ , his breath raising goose bumps as it hit the wet skin on your neck. "Your final warning. You finish that sentence and you won't be able to claim such any longer."

"Considering you're the first to make me call his name."

But a few moments later, you found that your shirt had been lifted over your head and thrown to the ground. Dante's lips found yours once more, the passion from before having changed into pure lust, and you tangled your hands into his hair as his roamed your newly-bared skin. Only briefly did they linger on the fabric of your bra before they abandoned it in favour of tugging your pants down.

"You know," he said in between kisses, "I've never met anyone who could get turned on when their sister was in the hospital. Or after almost being killed by a demon."

You chuckled lowly, making the devil hunter beneath you shudder at the sound. He couldn't help himself and he slipped his hand between your slightly-parted legs, pressed up against you through your knickers, making you gasp. Even through your underpants he could feel how wet you were, signalling him that you hadn't been lying about your... 'need' of him after all.

"Who says it's not the knowledge that you'd go through so much to keep me safe that's making me feel like this?" you offered. You couldn't help the way your body was acting when you rolled your hips against him, pressing his hand against himself with you on top. A low moan left his throat before he attacked yours, no longer able to be careful with the bruises there, but you didn't wince at the discomfort either. 

Breathing heavily, you grabbed his belt yet again and were finally allowed to release it, unzipping his pants and trying to shove it down while Dante busied himself with your folds. You had to stop what you were doing for a moment when he dipped a finger inside of you, and he stopped bothering your neck so that he could look up and take in the look on your face as you felt something other than yourself enter you for the first time. 

"Have you ever...?" Dante asked after seeing the slight look of surprise on your face, a strangled gasp leaving your lips as he curled his finger inside of you, rubbing against your walls. The slight shake of your head was enough of an answer, and a smirk graced his features as he added another finger. He began to move them in a slow rhythm while his thumb found a certain bundle of nerves you had heard so much about but had never gotten the chance to become... acquainted with.

So this would be the first time ever you felt something enter you _at all_. Dante couldn't wipe the grin off his face as he watched you close your eyes and hide your face in his hair. He wouldn't have any of it and used his free hand to cup your chin and push you back so that he could enjoy the view once more. You bit your lip in sudden embarrassment, your face flushing in either that or excitement, as you averted your gaze, only to find yourself searching his gaze again.

As you began to get used to this feeling of his fingers inside of you and his thumb rubbing over your clit, you let go of any restraints you might have had on your body and found that you began to ride his hand as best as you could with your inexperience. Rocking your hips back and forth, you moaned as Dante pulled out of you and instead concentrated on that nub. It felt as though something inside of you began to tighten, and you practically panted. The intense gaze in his blue eyes only seemed to egg you on, and you let out a soft yelp, closing your eyes and throwing your head back just as you felt something figuratively break - only to feel it disappear all of a sudden. You groaned when you realised what the bastard had done, but you didn't care as you slumped forward, your forehead hitting his shoulder, your breath hot against his skin. He chuckled into your ear and that burning, almost painful feeling returned with vigour, though it had never really left in the first place. 

Grasping at his trousers, you began to tug them down again and this time he lifted his bottom to help you, shimmying out of them until they were stuck at his knees. Now both your legs were bare and sticking together through the sheet of sweat that had begun to cover yours, but most important was the fact that the only thing between _her_ and _him_ was the fabric of his boxers and your panties. With shaking hands, you reached down to pull his down, to return the favour, but Dante's hands stopped you yet again. You wanted to glare at him, but by then he had already wrapped your arms back around his neck. 

"This one is just for you," he murmured against your lips as he pressed soft kisses to them. Then he used one of his arms to hold you close to him, not allowing you to pull away for any longer than necessary as he used his free hand to push his boxers down just enough to release himself from its prison. "I always thought that women wanted their first time to be romantic, with candles and roses on a proper bed."

"When did you ever look at me and think, 'Yeah, that is one average woman who would totally want her first time to be mundane and cliché!'?" 

"Well, perhaps the first few moments I laid eyes upon you? Wait, no, never mind that, as if any woman walking through the door of my office can be considered average."

Once the two of you finished laughing, you realised that all that remained between you were your underclothes, and all of a sudden you felt rather nervous. You licked your lips and Dante, noticing the sudden change in demeanour, frowned. 

"Cold feet? Too bad, you've already passed the point of no return," he said in an attempt to get you to laugh. When it didn't work, he quickly added, "Of course not, you can still say no. I'd be a bit disappointed, yes, but I guess it beats raping you."

You shook your head and planted your hands on his cheeks to stare into his eyes. Then you let go and began to play with strands of his hair, embarrassed to speak your mind. Dante didn't mind, he simply waited for you as he littered butterfly kisses over your stomach. A few moments later you hid your head against his neck and you whispered into his skin, "Doesn't the first time hurt?"

Dante with his super-hearing caught it loud and clear anyway, and he couldn't help but smile. How confusing, he had thought that _that_ would be the least of your worries when it came to having sex for the first time. You threw yourself in harm's way so often that it almost seemed as though you enjoyed getting hurt. 

"So I've heard. But don't worry, though you may have caught the name women usually give to him - the Pussydestroyer - he doesn't _actually_ destroy pussies. I doubt they'd come back for more if that were the case, right?" Dante quipped, almost expecting you to punch him for making a joke like that. He didn't expect the small smile on your face, which caused him to raise both his eyebrows. "So what do you say, slow and steady or just get it over with?" 

"Just get it over with," you breathed, and moved along as he lifted you up ever so slightly with the arm wrapped around your back while the other reached down so that he could position himself just so. 

"Condoms?" he asked before it was too late.

You shook your head and answered, "I take the pill. Hurray for the fear of being raped and impregnated."

Dante frowned at that but decided to address the issue later, and went back to what he was doing. You closed your eyes and bit your lip as you felt him lower you on top of him, surprised by how different it felt from his fingers. You remained silent at the slight pain, glad that that had been all. Dante didn't move when you had taken in all of him, though he couldn't help the soft moan that left his throat and reminded you of what the two of you had been doing in the first place. Without waiting for him, you began to rock yourself back and forth, not sure what you should do now. You hadn't exactly spent the years of your youth watching porn or using other ways to 'research' what the act of having sex actually entailed. If the sound Dante made from your sudden movement was any indication, you had to guess that whatever you had just done had been the right thing to do. 

The half-demon beneath you helped you in your movements, meeting the lowering of your hips with soft thrusts of his own. You tried to be quiet, but your breathy moans wouldn't be silenced, even when you pressed your lips against Dante's where you would end up gasping into his mouth whenever he lowered you on top of him. You yourself didn't seem to have to do anything since he most likely didn't have to use even a fraction of his strength, but you could no longer control your movements as you decided that things went too slow to your liking. Dante bit your tongue every time you decided to pick up the speed and matched the sounds that you made with groans of his own, sweat soon covering the two of you, no longer belonging to either one of you but instead being mixed. 

As the dance, as one could almost call it, went on, the kisses became sloppier, and Dante forsook your mouth in favour of your neck, your shoulders, your collarbone, your breasts... Anywhere he could latch onto and suck as though his life depended on it. You could only hold onto his back and press your face against his hair, breathing in his scent as he consumed your very being. He realised he had never fucked a virgin before, and that he loved the way you needed his guidance every now and then that he happily gave you in the form of a grunt. Somewhere along the line, he had begun to rub a finger against your clit again, both listening and watching as you reacted to the added stimulus. 

Every additional thrust helped you reach that sacred destiny until you could no longer hold on. You practically whimpered as you whispered his name over and over again. Then you let out that cry that had been building up all this time, your mouth desperately clinging to that of Dante as you felt the need to be as close as possible to the man. He swallowed the low moan you let out as you practically burst around him and he made sure to see the face you made as you came for the very first time. By the time you had finished riding the waves of your orgasm, you trembled and panted in ecstasy. 

Exhaustion from the day suddenly crushed you though you were far from finished, and you slumped against his form, held onto him for dear life. Dante let out a chuckle that almost struck your very core in your moment of weakness as he wrapped his arms around you and held you close. He wanted to lift you off him, but you turned your hips just so that his breath caught in his throat, and he let go of you. 

"You must come, too," you whispered into his ear in a husky tone, sending a shiver down his spine. 

"Be my guest," he murmured back at you, and you could hear the smile in his voice. 

You obliged him and, this time without his help for you held onto his hands, ever so slowly you began to move again. Your fingers entwined, you pressed his hands against the back of the couch while you leaned forward to capture his lips in a sweet kiss, all the while using the strength that remained in your legs to lower yourself onto his length. He let out a low moan and tried to lift his hips to meet you, and you let him. You could always take the time to torture him later, after all. 

The rhythm remained slow and steady, and though Dante normally would have thought that to be enough to torture him, this time it seemed to add to the raw emotion hanging in the air. When his breath quickened again, you picked up the pace a little to give him what he wanted, tried to keep up with the thrusts of his hips that became faster and more erratic as he came closer to his release. Now it was your turn to watch as he froze and squeezed his eyes shut as he filled you with himself. 

When he opened his eyes again, he smiled a lazy smile at you and pulled himself free from you to wrap his arms around you in a hug. The two of you sat there in silence, waiting until your hearts had calmed down and your sweat had dried a little. When at least breathing came more easily to both of you, he carefully lifted you off him.

"We might want to clean ourselves up," he advised, something he didn't have to say twice as you quickly, and gingerly, walked over to the stairs to do just that. Dante watched you saunter off, eyeing the slight sway of your naked hips as you made your way upstairs, your mouth moving as you counted the steps to yourself. He shook his head and wondered how he had managed to get this far with someone like you. 

Still, there was no denying it. He sighed as he ran a hand through his hair before he relaxed into the couch to stare up at the ceiling. As he did so, he listened to your footsteps as you reached the next floor and made your way to the bathroom upstairs. He was in far deeper than he thought possible. Not just with someone like you, but with anybody in general. He had thought he would grow old by himself, yet here he sat, still half-dressed after popping your cherry, so to speak. And you had made it rather clear that you weren't interested in short-term things. Well, technically you had made it rather clear that you weren't interested in _anything_ , yet there you were, cleaning yourself up after having started just such a thing. But Dante, who normally shied away from such notions when it came to throwing himself at them, found that he felt content. He looked forward to all the stuff the two of you would encounter on this path that one could call 'a relationship'. With all your flaws and quirks, he had just as many problems, yet you had accepted him for what he was without a second thought.

After a while, he got up from the sofa and, after completely discarding his trousers and boxers, followed you up the stairs while trying not to make a mess, a smile visible on his face as he did so. You stepped out of the shower just as he entered the bathroom and you gave him a quick peck on his lips before you launched yourself onto the bed to get some shuteye. Dante shook his head at the thought of you lying spread out on your bed, naked and still smelling of sex, _his_ sex, and came to the conclusion that his girlfriend was a nutter. And perhaps he already loved that about you. 

When he entered the bedroom once he had taken a quick shower, he found you already fast asleep on top of the covers. Well at least now you had found a solution to _that_ problem.


	21. Come Undone

The next time you woke up, a few hours had passed. Shifting slightly on the spot, you stretched your arms out above you. When you opened your eyes, you were greeted by the small grin on Dante's face who was lying next to you on the bed. He had covered the two of you with a blanket, but a quick check told you that the two of you were still naked. 

"Regret it yet?" he murmured in a husky voice as he moved closer to you until the tips of your noses were almost touching. Your sleepy eyes met his bright ones and you wondered, firstly, how long exactly you had been asleep and, secondly, whether he had been awake all this time. 

Those three words, innocent and harmless with a tinge of humour, managed to cause an avalanche inside your mind. Those three words, tiny snowballs at the top of a snowy hill, began to roll down and took up mass as they neared the valley beneath them. He had asked you if you regretted it yet, and anybody but you would have smiled at once and denied the possibility. You, on the other hand, had to knit your brows together and repeat the question to yourself. _Did_ you regret it yet? Now that you had had sex with this man, you felt that you had tied an invisible knot with him, binding yourself together for the rest of your lives. Though sex wasn't a big deal for many people walking on this planet, you had cherished your virginity, had felt proud that you hadn't given in when everyone around you seemed to be obsessed with the act of having sex, being sexy and finding others sexy. You had never even thought of the possibility of being so intimate with anybody, hadn't cared for it. Lying in this bed, naked, next to this man, also naked, you thought back a few hours and knew that, for you, this would be your first and last 'relationship' ever. You would never be able to care for someone, _trust_ someone else as much as you did for Dante... 

But still, that didn't answer the question of whether you regretted it or not. You had just admitted that he was important to you. That you trusted him. But how did you feel about tying yourself to someone else like that? Was this what love was supposed to be? Did you really love him? Did _he_ really love _you_?

You shook your head in order to force the worrisome thoughts of your mind. By now, Dante was staring at you with a raised eyebrow, humour now mixed with concern. With a wry smile, he commented, "I feel this doesn't bode well for me."

Instead of answering with words, not quite capable of doing so in this moment, you reached out with your arm to punch him on his chest. Without retracting your hand, you opened your fist so that your palm was resting on top of his heart, your fingers splayed across his warm skin. Feeling his heartbeat, strong and steady beneath your digits, seemed to reassure you a little. Strong and steady - just like him. 

Dante himself didn't say anything either as he reached up to pull your hand away from his chest. Then he pressed his own against yours, his long, calloused fingers against your smaller, softer ones. He frowned as he stared at them. It was almost as though he were trying to read something in the gesture, trying to gauge your thoughts. He voiced his thoughts not much later. It seemed as if your thoughtful silence had summoned his own musing as well.

"I could snap your fingers in the blink of an eye, without even realising it myself," he began, his eyes never leaving your connected hands. Out of fear of seeing your face as what he said struck home. That you would remember with what you had decided to begin a relationship. He looked like a normal human being and acted like one for most of the time, but he was far from it. It wasn't that unimaginable that you had somehow managed to forgot this somewhat important fact. "Does that not frighten you?" 

You blinked in response, surprised by his fears. Here you had been, worrying about whether or not you regretted having sex with him because either one of you may not love the other, while he was thinking that you might be _afraid_ of him. It seemed that the two of you had a lot of talking to do. This seemed to be the perfect time to do just that, did it not?

"I..." Your voice trailed off, hesitating for a moment before confessing. Dante's frown deepened and he pulled his hand away, the cold against your palm in the wake of his retreat causing goose bumps to raise on your arm. You realised what kind of impression you were giving him right now and you quickly shook your head, tried to correct your mistake. "No, not that! Never _that_! I... I..."

You stopped again when you saw the expression on his face. He was sceptical. Suspicious, even. He didn't believe you! He thought you were lying to reassure him. Now that just wouldn't do.

Launching yourself at him with as much power as you could muster, not caring for your shoulder, you hit him harder than he had expected. The two of you had already been lying on his side of the bed and you could feel his arms wrap around you. He swore under his breath at the feeling of your bodies teetering on the edge, and then the two of you toppled over, hitting the ground below with a loud crash.

As you had expected, Dante had made sure that you fell on top of him as his back smacked against the floor. You sat up and decided that you weren't going to let him recollect his thoughts, instead leaning down again and capturing his lips in a soft kiss. Your heart sank when he didn't react and just let you do as you pleased. At least you could feel his happiness at the fact that the two of you were naked and that you were straddling him pressing against you, but both of you ignored it.

You pulled back a little, mouth still hovering over his while you stared into his eyes, tried to discern his thoughts and emotions in that moment. Unfortunately, he managed to keep his expression as blank as possible, not releasing anything until you clarified your intentions. 

"You..." Your hands travelled down his arms, grasping his wrists, pulling them above his head and holding them there. "...are..." 

Your tongue found his neck in short licks. "...the last..." 

You ground your hips against his, eliciting a groan from him though he tried to hold it back. "...person I fear."

As if to prove your point, you could see his body visibly shake as he wanted to tear his hands from yours, wanted to roll you over and take you once more, and then again, and again, and _again_ , until you could no longer walk. Instead, however, he remained your captive, because you knew he would never do anything that could hurt you, that might put you in danger. 

"Then why the hesitation?" he finally spoke, his voice low, but not in that husky tone of his. There was nothing sexy about this; only something tender and heartbreaking that made you want to hug the shit out of him.

Here it was, the moment where you told him your true thoughts. If only to reassure him that what he feared wasn't the case. 

"Because... we..." Stumbling over your words, you let out a sigh and let go of him. You sat up and reached for the blanket from the bed, wrapped it around yourself before you went on. "Because we've had sex, and sex has always been... For me, something as ' _just_ ' sex doesn't exist. So this is a huge step for me. Such a huge step that has me thinking... What if I don't really love you?"

Silence was all you received from Dante's side, his face once more in that passive mask. Or had it ever left in the first place?

When the quiet made you fidget a little, you decided to fill it with the worst question possible, your mouth not listening as your mind screamed not to do it. "Do _you_ love _me_?" 

Dante promptly burst out in laughter, leaving you staring at him in shock. Had your question been so funny? You ran your mind over it a few more times, trying to discern any possible humour in your words. 

When he realised that you yourself were still staring at him as though he were crazy, he coughed a few times, almost choked on his saliva and coughed a few more times before he could look at you with a straight face again. "Oh, so that was an actual question? Sorry."

You felt conflicted. You weren't sure whether you were supposed to be angry at him, or whether you should feel relieved that at least he was no longer doing any of that self-hatred any longer. If the cost for that was being laughed at, you could live with it. No matter how many times it would take until he no longer felt that need to ever doubt himself like that. You wondered if _that_ was what love was supposed to be like. 

Cautiously pulling his hands free from your grasp, always making sure not to hurt you, he pressed his palms against your shoulders to push you back a little so that he could sit up as well. Then he placed his arms behind him so that he was leaning on his elbows as he looked at you. A small smile that made your legs go weak - thankfully you were already sitting down - adorned his face as he mustered his response, though you wished it would have been something different. 

"I'm sorry to burst your bubble, but love doesn't come that quick. Or that easy, for that matter. At least not for me. I really can't say anything about what's going on inside of your pretty little head, you'll have to decide that for yourself," he said. 

Seeing your passive face at hearing his words, he quickly added, "But don't worry, I have a good feeling about us, if that counts for anything. Your sacrifice does not have to be in vain!"

And having said that, he did not bother waiting for your response as he hooked his arm around your waist and pulled you down, closer to him. Your nose buried itself in the crook of his neck before you could utter any kind of protests. Which might have been a good idea, looking back. Instead of voicing your discomfort about the fact that he had just admitted that he did not love you - _yet_ \- you were forced to remind yourself that the two of you had barely known each for a month or something. Much less of said time had been spent as a 'couple', and only now that you had had sex with him were you wondering about love. Had you, just like everyone else, not become a little obsessed with sex in the end, as well? Perhaps it was better not to attach too much emotion to something that others threw around so casually. At least you could still enjoy the warmth this man was encasing you with. 

You closed your eyes and relaxed. Taking a deep breath, you almost fell asleep... Until you jolted back up, remembering the whole situation you were in. Somehow, you had managed to forget that your sister was still in the hospital. 

"Was wondering when you'd remember," Dante murmured, placing a hand on your cheek and tracing your lower lip with his thumb. 

"We have to get back."

"Take your time. If anything had changed or happened during our absence, James would have called you, right?"

"But what if--"

Dante smashed your face back into his chest, effectively silencing you once more. He was practically breathing into your ear when he said, "If you don't calm down, I'll be forced to _make_ you do so using a handy little thing called 'an orgasm'..."

Your cheeks turned red at what he said, and _how_ he said it, and you had to think back a few hours to when he had given you your first. For a split second you were torn between taking him up on his offer before going to the hospital, but you decided that you had neglected your sister long enough. You should head back now that you weren't feeling guilty yet for what you had done. 

First, however, you wouldn't deny yourself a few more moments of warmth as you relaxed on top of your make-shift bed that was Dante. All the while, with your eyes closed for a few moments as you listened to Dante's heartbeat, you wondered since when you had become so comfortable with being so close to someone. Then you asked yourself how it was possible that you actually allowed yourself to relax for once. Deciding that it was all Dante's fault, though you weren't quite sure yet whether it was for better or for worse, you forced your mind into blankness and simply enjoyed the moment.


	22. Time Bomb

Just as Dante had predicted, there had been absolutely no change in the situation at the hospital. Which had been kind of obvious from the get-go, seeing as you yourself were also quite sure that James would have been too hysterical or excited _not_ to call you to inform you of it. You had just considered the worst-case scenario in which he wouldn't call you, as you usually assumed that with many things. 

The very moment you opened the door to your sister's room and stepped in, James looked up and narrowed his eyes at you. You noticed that he had probably slept in the meantime; his face had regained some of its colour during your absence. You wanted to open your mouth to greet your companion, but even before Dante had closed the door, James practically yelled, " _Really_?!"

Frozen to the spot, you raised an eyebrow at his sudden outburst. Dante came to stand next to you at the side of the bed opposite to the boy, a grin on his face as he nodded his head at James. The latter looked rather confused in that one moment, not sure what he was supposed to feel in this moment. You, in the meanwhile, still had no clue what either man was going on about. 

"Of all the times you could choose to... It had to be _now_?!" James finally asked, exasperated and gesturing wildly with his hands. It was then that you understood what was going on, and your face turned a lovely shade of red to match your embarrassment, though you tried to hide it behind your hands.

"Men..." you muttered with a shake of your head while said creatures grinned and slapped each other's shoulders in congratulatory gesticulations. To ruin their little moment, you asked, just for the sake of saying something, "Any change yet?"

That seemed to dampen to mood at once and James looked down at your sister, a finger reaching out to stroke the pale skin of her arm. He shook his head in response and let out a sigh at the same time. "Nothing yet. But it hasn't gotten any worse, either, so we shouldn't lose hope."

You smiled softly as you let your eyes wander over her body, taking in the various cuts and bruises Blondie had given her before you had killed him. Your smile disappeared at the thought of that monster, as you remembered for the first time in hours that you still had to take care of Blackie. Even more important than that was the fact that Atlas was still roaming about, though the demon had remained 'indoors' since your last encounter. You had a feeling the Chief actually feared you and wanted to slim the chances of you finding proof for your statement. That he could become paranoid was a good thing, it meant that he had a weakness, that he was afraid. He wasn't out of reach after all. 

Dante watched your eyes dart back and forth as the cogs were turning in your head, the guilt for having been inactive for far too long driving you on faster than before. Somehow, he had managed to keep your attention fixated on him, but he knew there wouldn't be a second time. At least not until the next step of your plan had been fulfilled, whatever that might be. You looked at him all of a sudden, both of you looking slightly taken aback at the sudden eye contact. He, however, continued to gaze into your orbs while the guilt visible in yours intensified and you looked somewhere else in the room, counting the trees you could see outside through the window. 

One was down, two were left. Take the small, unimportant ones out first. Leave the big guy for last. Procrastination? Avoiding the situation? No, genuinely a better idea. Small fries only get in the way when dealing with their leader. As they have already done many times. They made a situation that was already dangerous even more so. All right, with that out of the way: how? Lure him, try to trap him? Ambush? Or seek him out? Use your knowledge of the workplace to your advantage. They'd expect a trap, they'd never think you stupid enough to take the fight to them. Yes.

"Don't even think about it."

Both you and James looked up at him in surprise. When James saw that Dante had directed his attention towards you, however, he turned to look at you as well. Your gaze meeting his, your plan solidified itself in your mind. You couldn't take him with you, for that would jeopardise his career, and no matter what he would tell you, you wouldn't go against that. Dante, on the other hand, had too much of a reputation to sneak up on the lackey. You felt that the man wasn't quite made for stealth. Or perhaps you wanted to do something about your wounded pride, and your dealing a killing blow to Blondie had made you arrogant. 

Dante reached for your chin and yanked your face so that you were looking at him again. His expression was unreadable, though you could discern hints of anger in his posture, in the way his brows were knit together and the dipping of the corners of his mouth. " _No_."

A slight tremor in his voice, unnoticeable to anybody but you. Fear. You relaxed a little. He feared for your safety. Feared you would get yourself killed, or almost killed, once again. Indeed, you had been doing so quite a bit lately, hadn't you? But back then he hadn't cared. At least not like this. He would've mourned your death like he mourned that of every other human being whose death he failed to prevent. Now, however, the pain would go much deeper, and though he claimed not to love you... You wondered whether he just didn't know it yet. 

"All right," you murmured under your breath. You shot him a small smile and felt your heart flutter as the barrier to his emotions broke down and you saw them ebb away, leaving only relief behind.

"Hello?" James interjected, confused. He felt as though he were missing a large part of the conversation, which of course he was, though neither you nor Dante felt like updating him. The two of you just shook your heads and decided to switch the topic instead.

"So, James," Dante began rather abruptly, "I see you're doing pretty fine after hearing that demons exist and that your Chief-guy is probably one as well. How are you holding up, kid?"

The diversion-tactic worked. James glanced down at his hand that had never stopped its pattern-drawing on your sister's arm. It was almost as if he were hoping that it would wake her up once it started to get annoying. It didn't seem to be working, though. 

"I've had a lot of time to think about it, y'know. While you guys were..." He couldn't help but grin at that. "So it's fine. And I got to see one firsthand, didn't I? If I were delusional to believe it beforehand, I'd only be in denial if I were to think you were lying now... Say, Dante?"

"What's up?" Dante replied as he ran a hand through his hair.

"Where... exactly do you fit into this whole mess?" 

The answer he got surprised even you. It was more of an oversight on your part, though, seeing as you had never thought to ask him the same question. The way Dante's eyes flickered over to you before he responded should have been enough of a sign for that. 

"Let's just say that you weren't the only ones investigating the case. The woman who had my business card that led you to my office got it after she had visited me for help. Claimed she had a bad feeling about going alone at night and that she had heard of Devil May Cry via... someone. Or she had read about it somewhere. Can't really remember. Anyway, I gave her the card so that she could call me if she ever required my assistance, though it seems that plan of hers never quite succeeded," Dante concluded. Before anybody could say anything, he added, "Oh right, and of course there had been that part where I caught wind of some new kind of demon wandering around town that I had to check out for some people."

Your mouth fell open at hearing that, and you weren't sure whether you were to be mad at the devil hunter for not telling you this, or whether you should reprimand yourself for not thinking of asking about this any earlier. It must have been his trying to convince you that something that was 'neither animal, nor human' truly existed that had thrown you off balance. Back when demons hadn't existed for you. Funny how so much could change in so little time. You felt calmer than you had in years, despite the fact that you were in more danger than ever. All because of meeting a single man. 

You ignored the smug look James was sending your way and you told yourself that he had forgotten to question the rather obvious matter of why what seemed to be an ordinary human being had been running after a demon like that. You excluded yourself from the group of 'ordinary human beings running afters demons' because it had been your job to do so. You voiced none of your thoughts and instead decided to ask him, "How did you know about... us, anyway?"

His smug look turned into one of laughter when he began to formulate a sentence that was supposed to ask you whether you knew absolutely nothing about sex, and failed, several times. In the end, he gave up and simply replied, "It wasn't difficult. You reek of it."

Shocked, you desperately wanted to ask how sex could smell like anything, but with your face once more having turned bright red behind your hands, you did not want to risk looking like an inexperienced, naive teenage girl in front of these men. Scratch that, you _never_ wanted to look like an inexperienced, naive teenage girl. You dared to throw Dante a look to gauge his reaction, though that ended up being the wrong thing to do.

"Yes, sweetheart. Sex smells. Though thankfully not everyone is as good at smelling it as others are... But it's a great way to claim someone as your own, to be very honest." You frowned at him, realising that this was the first time he had called you by one of his annoying pet names. You had thought he had gotten over that by now. Apparently not. 

For the next two or three hours, the three of you sat by your sister's side, waiting for her to wake up, or until someone threw you out. James refused to leave the room, until Dante 'convinced' him to join him downstairs in the hospital cafeteria by dragging him outside. You promised to take care of your sister in James's absence, though that mainly consisted of staring at her unmoving body and feeling more guilty with every passing minute.

She lay here, almost _dying_ , and James had been practically killing himself by never leaving her side, while you had been getting it on with your boyfriend. When it had been your fault in the first place. You shouldn't have gotten everyone involved in this demon-matter. Or perhaps you should have let Dante take care of it all by himself, no matter what your pride had to say about it all. 

What would Dante be doing in this situation, anyway, if he hadn't met you? The possibility existed that he wouldn't even have known that Atlas could change into human form, and had managed to worm his way into society as the head of a police department in the city. Though he went along with your 'assumptions' that the Chief and Atlas were the same... thing, you still hadn't produced any hard evidence to convince him. You feared that you wouldn't be able to get him on your side when the time for judgement came, but that just meant that you would have to get him to confront Atlas in his demon-form. 

You let out a sigh and leaned back in your chair, massaging your shoulder in an attempt to work out the kinks you had worked up over the course of these past few weeks. Though you kept chastising yourself about how you had taken a break from your work, you had to admit that your body was grateful for it. On the other hand, with nothing to worry about, you felt even more tired than you normally did, when you simply hadn't the time to dwell on such things. 

With a lot of ruckus, the two most important men in your life crashed into the room, the childish grins on their face telling you that they had been up to no good. 

"Shush, you'll wake her up," you warned them in a low voice, raising an eyebrow at them when they went along with you and muttered whispered apologies. It took them longer than you would have liked to realise what was going on, bursting out in even more laughter once they did.

Dante and James talked some more about something or other while you zoned out once again. When listening to the rhythmic beeping of your sister's heart rate became too much to bear, you got up from your chair, stretching your arms as you did so. Dante let out a low whistle and you shot him a look that told him the next time would be his last. 

"Going somewhere, boss?" James asked as he watched you straighten your coat. 

You nodded in response and jabbed a thumb over your shoulder in the direction of the door. "Yes, to the toilet, if you don't mind. And perhaps to find something to eat as well. Call me if anything changes, all right?"

The men promised that they'd do just that before they watched you leave the room, closing the door behind you with a soft click. Then you made your way to the elevator, in the opposite direction of the restrooms.


	23. Signs

It had begun to snow once more, a thin layer of white covering the rooftops while the last few animals outside scurried and flew about, trying to find a warm place to hide from the cold. It was still rather early in the day and most people lay in their comfy beds, enjoying their holidays and having no where to go, so the streets were practically deserted as you made your way towards the building that had given you the stability you had needed all these years. How funny that you had always feared losing that one pillar of security, yet now that you had, you felt like you couldn't care less. After all, something, or rather _someone_ , else had taken said pillar's place. Though you had normally hated change, despising James when he decided it was time to move his desk to a different spot in his office, this time you felt like embracing it instead. And there was nothing better to celebrate such a thing with than by killing a demon. Or perhaps by getting yourself killed first. It seemed that you had also gotten over your fear of uncertainty as well.

You rubbed your hands together to fend off the cold, cupping them and blowing into them afterwards to warm them with your breath. When that didn't seem to work, you gave up and hoisted the guitar case you had slung over your back higher onto your shoulder. You had practically raced home to grab your shotgun and stuff it in the bag of which you didn't even remember why you had it in the first place since you had no guitar. You had hoped that you wouldn't take too long, not wanting Dante to follow and find you halfway there. With your many pockets and the case filled with ammo for the shotgun and your pistols, which were in their respective holsters on around your belt, and with your knife in your boot, you felt that you were adequately equipped to take on this battle. 

Or at least, that was what you hoped. You did not quite remember exactly what it had taken to kill Blondie seeing as you had been full of adrenaline and whatnot. In fact, you couldn't remember most of that evening in its totality, save for several flashes of the people around you getting wounded. The only thing that you could remember clear as crystal was the look on Blondie's face when you put a bullet between his eyes: the victorious grin, the crazed look in his eyes... You shuddered in an attempt to forget that particular memory. 

To distract yourself, you went over your plan once more. You knew all the entrances to the building, and knew the Chief's schedule like the back of your hand. You knew every nook and cranny, every place you could hide yourself in if need be, knew the locations of every desk and who could be found where. It was still early, so many people wouldn't be there yet, but the Chief had always been one of the first to arrive. Blackie would most likely be stuck to his master's side, but so that nobody would become suspicious, they wouldn't be seen together all the time. Under the guise of working for him on some special project in his office, Blackie would be able to remain close to the Chief most of the time. So when at half past seven Chief would go and get his third cup of coffee, Blackie would be alone in the room for at least fifteen minutes. With Blondie gone, he would be on his guard, but he wouldn't expect you to come searching for him. And if he did, then you would be prepared, too. Even before having stepped into the building, you had come up with all the possible scenarios that this encounter could go, and had thought of a countermeasure for each and every one of them. If only you had seen the bloody bastard in action more often, you would have been able to implement his habits into your plan, effectively eliminating the small chance of Blackie being able to overpower you which left you feeling rather uncomfortable. 

By the time you finally reached the office at around seven o'clock, your mind had forced you through every step of your scheme about a dozen times, examining every single aspect twice as often. Just to make sure that you had gotten everything right, that you hadn't forgotten anything, that you hadn't made any mistakes... And even then, you couldn't stop being fidgety and nervous. At least, until you saw the building looming up ahead of you, when your mind became strangely blank and calm. 

Up above, you heard a rather late skein of geese fly over, makings lots of noise as you made your way to the entrance that was closest to the Chief's office. You planned on staying close by but out of sight until half an hour had passed by and you were sure that Chief had left his room. You weren't worried about being noticed by one of your ex-colleagues inside; despite having quit, you still had enough reason to drop by, for example to pick up some items you may or may not have forgotten to take with you and that you were coming to pick up. Next to that, James still worked here, and people knew about the relationship between the two of you, had probably exaggerated it as they always did. It wouldn't surprise you if they suspected that there was more between James and you than you let on. Thus, dropping by would only fuel the rumours of some sort of relationship. Whatever made the masses happy. 

While waiting for the arrival of the time to act, you contemplated one problem you had been pondering over for a while now. Your main weapons of choice were guns, but guns were far too noisy to use in an environment as this, and you weren't quite sure how effective your fists or a knife could possibly be against a demon. Which meant you were going to have to lure him out, somehow. And where to? Another alley? Why did it seem that this case mostly took place in alleys?

Checking the time once more, you sighed when you saw that you were supposed to make your move now. Oh well, then that meant that you were going to have to improvise a bit, though the thought of that made your stomach turn. But you weren't going to wait any longer, you had already made a mess of everything by doing just that. You imagined your sister lying in that hospital bed, not dying but not truly alive either, and used the anger that flared inside of you to fuel your determination to go inside and stop doubting yourself. 

And so you did. Crossing the street, pace steady, you made your way towards one of the backdoors that would lead you straight to your destination, the heavy guitar case moving back and forth at your vigour, occasionally slapping you against your back as you went. The snow that had just been laid upon the stones beneath you in a thin layer crunched softly under your boots. 

Before you entered the door, you stamped your feet a few times to rid them of the snow sticking to them and checked your pockets, a more extensive one than usual as you also checked your ammo and reminded yourself of what ammo was in which pocket. Then, once more, you looked at what time it was to make sure you had gotten it right and finally pushed the door open. Your body flushed at the sudden warmth after standing in the cold for a while, but you ignored it and instead made your way through the plain corridor, trying to use your ears to find out whether anybody was nearby. 

All you could discern was the sound of one of the cleaners doing the usual morning round. Other than that, utter silence roamed the building. You doubted that the cleaner knew details about who no longer worked here and what they looked like, so you relaxed a little. The silence meant that you might not have to lure Blackie away after all, but you were still planning on being careful. 

Rounding the corner, you saw that the hallway remained empty. There was no sign of life and the sound of the cleaner was still pretty far-off. The second door to your right would be the Chief's office - close to an exit in case the man needed to get out as fast as possible for some reason or other. Before walking over to it, you set your case down and freed your shotgun, after which you loaded it with ammo. Then you went to stand next to the door, trying to make as little noise as possible, and listened. Other than soft rustling of paper inside, you couldn't hear anything. You hoped that meant the Chief had actually left when he was supposed to. 

Without giving yourself any more time to think this through one last time, you reached for the door and swung it open in one, swift movement before stepping into the doorway and aiming your double-barrelled shotgun at the figure inside. To hell with silence and subtlety, you decided in the very last moment. You gave yourself no time to ponder since when you had become so fickle, or whether a certain someone had begun to rub off on you. 

"Eat this," you muttered, more to yourself than to your audience, and you pulled the trigger twice in fast succession, or at least as fast as the device allowed you to.

The noise of the explosions reverberated off the walls, most likely alerting everyone in the near vicinity of the shots and almost deafening you at the same time. Blackie staggered backwards at the impact, a hand shooting up to press against the fresh wounds on his torso. Blood trickled down his fingers as he did so. While you busied yourself with flipping the gun open to reload, your eyes never leaving his form, he brought his hands to his face to examine the liquid that stained them. Then he looked down at his clothes, watched the red spread, almost with the fascination of a young child. 

You didn't plan on waiting around and letting him do as he pleased, and so you fired again, and then once more, only to see him take another step back yet remain mostly unscathed. He simply stood there, still not showing any emotions except for that curiosity directed towards his own blood. It seemed as though he hadn't even noted your presence. 

Only when you had reloaded your gun one more time and were ready for another round did he look up. You had been breathing heavily due to the adrenaline coursing through your veins and the strain that shooting was putting on your still-wounded shoulder, courtesy of this demon's partner, but when your eyes met, your breath hitched in your throat. 

Even from the doorway where you were standing the murderous intent was obvious in his dark gaze. _So this is the person who killed him_ , was what he must have been thinking. Ignoring the drops of blood sliding down and splattering onto the ground, leaving a trail of crimson behind him, he stalked over to you. A wicked grin spread across his face when he saw you take a step back to compensate for the decreased distance, but he knew it was futile. 

Panic blazing inside of you all of a sudden, your trembling hands managed to aim the shotgun and pull the trigger one last time. This only delayed the inevitable, it seemed, for before you could shoot again, Blackie had closed the distance. Pressing your back against the wall opposite of the Chief's office, his bloodied chest touched yours once he had pushed your weapon up so that you were aiming at the ceiling. To your side you heard footsteps approaching fast and you knew that it wouldn't be long until you would be surrounded, so you decided to act fast. 

However, just as you were about to bring one of your arms up to free yourself from the demon's hold, the world around you blurred. You felt the smooth surface behind you turn into a rough one before you saw your surroundings. You shivered from the sudden cold before you noticed you were outside. You became nauseous before you realised you had somehow been teleported to somewhere else. 

Blinking in surprise, for a split second you forgot the situation you were in. It wasn't until you heard the crash of your shotgun, completely forgotten in your bewilderment, falling to the ground beside you that your body tensed. Blackie held your shoulders in a steel grip, pressing you against the brick wall behind you. That smirk was still visible on his face, and it only grew wider when realisation dawned upon you that, somehow, the two of you were now standing in a dark alley. Yet another alley. 

Once more attaining a defensive stance, and now with both hands free, you didn't wait for him to make the first move. You brought up your arms and smashed your hands, thumbs down, into his elbows, pushing them down and forcing your enemy to come crashing forward. His face smacked against the wall with a painful crunch, but, as expected, he didn't release you. Your next action was to fling your knee up and kick him in the groin, but one of his hands found your leg before you could do any damage to his family jewels. 

With nowhere to go and nothing to do just yet, you decided that it would be best to wait and see what he was planning on doing. His face was still against the wall, and he breathed into your ear when you heard him chuckle lowly, giving you goose bumps. When he pulled back, you saw that you still hadn't managed to wipe that grin off his face, but you soon found that you had other things to worry about.

His eyes darkened when he looked at you, lust filling his gaze. Just as you had ascertained this, you felt his hands let go of your shoulder and leg and instead busy themselves with the buttons of your shirt. Feeling taken aback, a voice inside of you screamed that he was going to rape you, that you had to run away, that he was going to kill you. Shortly after, a logical voice spoke up, albeit a bit confused, adding that you had anticipated almost every possible outcome, but _this_ had most certainly not been one of them. You yourself remained frozen to the spot, not being able to decide what you were supposed to do as fear overrode your system.

The fingers against your bare skin were surprisingly cold and your body shuddered at the touch. He licked his lips as he saw the flesh beneath your shirt and you were just about to scream for help when all of a sudden remembered that you had gotten yourself into this mess precisely because you had wanted to prove yourself. Because you hadn't wanted to rely on Dante all the time. What kind of girlfriend would you be if you were to always run off by yourself, only to need saving? 

You mentally told your mind to shut up for a second, to calm down and let you think in a calm and rational manner. He was unbuttoning your shirt, and taking his sweet time doing so, because he wanted you. You had no idea whether it was just a coincidence that the moment you were surrounded by demons, be it whole or half ones, everyone seemed to be tripping over themselves to get a piece of you.

"You reek of _him_ ," Blackie suddenly spat out, as if he were annoyed by this fact. 

That put a hole in your newly-born arrogance: so he didn't want you specifically. He simply despised Dante's 'stench' on you and wanted to get rid of it before he killed you. It was only a logical thing to want, after all. But just because you hadn't expected this scenario did not mean that you had to suffer through all of it like a good little victim. 

A strangled noise rose into the air, and it took you a while to realise that it had erupted from you in an attempt to moan. An attempt that had gone horribly wrong, though what could you do when your heart was beating against your ribs with such strength that you feared it might beat a hole there, or when your palms were so sweaty that you wondered if you were even capable of holding anything in that moment. You felt sick to the stomach, but still you tried to repeat the same action as before. This time, your hands moved up to his hair, your fingers becoming entwined with the black strands as you pressed the back of your head against the wall in order to hide the fear visible on your face. You closed your eyes and forced yourself to imagine that you weren't in a dark alley, about to be murdered by a demon who first wanted to have sex with you for some absurd reason. Instead, you pictured yourself in a dark alley, being pushed against the wall by a certain Devil Hunter who was in desperate need for you but did not have the patience to wait till you got home. 

Blackie let out another chuckle before he attacked your bared throat, licking and nipping at the exposed flesh, and you wondered for a moment whether your horrible acting had actually managed to convince him that you were somehow enjoying this as well. To your ears, though, it sounded as though Dante had been the one to laugh, and you were both disturbed and relieved at the same time when you found yourself getting turned on. Disturbed, because you were about to be _raped_ by the person you were trying to kill, and relieved because this meant your faking might come over as real. You justified your actions by telling yourself that you weren't exactly planning on going through with the whole thing in the first place. Just until he was distracted enough to strike. 

Growing impatient, Da... _Blackie_ pulled back so that he could yank your coat off of you, throwing it somewhere to the side to be forgotten. Then he pushed the material of your shirt to the side, baring your bra and the skin underneath. It became obvious he wasn't planning on making this encounter any more romantic than need be - thankfully - when his hand found your legs and he slipped it between your thighs, pressing up against you as he did so. You had to suck in a breath in order to maintain your calm or otherwise you might have attempted a roundhouse kick on his head. Your body screamed for him to stop as he rubbed up against you, but you shushed it by thinking back to Dante. Only a little more, you only had to do this a little longer, you promised yourself. And at least he hadn't tried to kiss you on your mouth yet. 

You could already feel his excitement through his trousers against your leg, and he growled at the friction you created against it when you shifted yourself slightly. You yourself weren't sure whether it had been on purpose or by accident, but it seemed to work anyhow, for Blackie ripped his hand from between your thighs and instead reached for his own pants. He tried to undo the belt that held them up, looking down at it with an angry grumble when it didn't want to cooperate.

The very moment your predator's eyes left your body, your right hand shifted back a little. You lifted your shirt up ever so slightly, but Blackie was too distracted by his blasted belt to pay any attention to what you were up to. Before he knew what was going on, the barrel of a gun was pressed to his temple, the cold metal biting into his skin. He managed to blink once in surprise, his lips beginning to form a snarl when you pulled the trigger, Dante's added power causing the devil to fly back from his previous position in front of you. 

Flipping your other gun out as well, you aimed and fired both at the same time, moving backwards towards what looked like the light at the end of the alley as you did so. Blackie managed to reclaim his balance faster than expected, zigzagging in order to dodge most of your bullets as he made his way back to you. Rage had taken over all his features, and you tried to skip back a few steps to widen the distance between the two of you. 

For a while it seemed to work, but then you heard the familiar clicks of empty guns and were a fracture too late to start reloading. 

In the moment of silence, Blackie, face now almost completely covered in his own blood, grasped the opportunity presented to him with both hands by dashing towards you. Skidding to a halt just before he crashed into you, he set one foot behind himself on the ground before pushing off again and kicking you in the shoulder that Blondie hadn't wounded. 

With a yelp, you let your guns clatter to the ground and you were sent spiralling after them, barely catching yourself to save your head from smacking against the concrete. You didn't allow the demon to have an advantage over you any longer than necessary, pushing yourself off the ground while ignoring the pain that seared through both your shoulders. Thankfully, the adrenaline pumping around inside of you made that easier than it should have been, and before you knew it you were sprinting towards your shotgun that still lay forgotten at the other end of the alley. 

Blackie swore under his breath, his wounds making him react slower. You had managed to reach and reload your shotgun before he could catch up with you, and he was greeted by two more bullets burying themselves into his skin. He staggered towards you, but you easily dodged his fist that still managed to punch a hole in the bricks where you had been standing. Both of you were breathing heavily, but that didn't mean you were about to give up. 

Sweat dribbled into your eye as you pulled your knife out of your boot and stabbed it into the back of his neck before he could turn around to you. Even after all that, he remained as he was, not turning into ash as his friend had done. You frowned and asked yourself just how much more you had to do for him to die, though the more important question was how long you could hold on. Your arms holding your weapon were beginning to tremble dangerously, and reloading it was turning into quite a hassle. Before you managed to close the gun, you had managed to drop a few bullets to the ground, not daring to bend over to pick them up. 

"Why won't you just stay still, you bitch!" Blackie spat at you, practically seething as he turned to look at you. He smirked when he saw you fumble around. The toll this battle was taking on you had become rather obvious, even to his one eye, the other being covered by blood. If it even existed anymore, after having been shot at point blank range. 

This knowledge only seemed to energise him, and he stopped caring about your bullets. Instead, he simply stalked over to you, almost challenging you to pull that trigger again. And so you did, but not without one of your knees buckling and crashing to the ground, your shot missing completely. 

That was all the time he needed to close the distance between the two of you. This time when he pushed you back, your hold on your gun tightened, just in case. He didn't care about it, didn't even seem to register its existence as he forced you to the ground, straddling you so that you couldn't use your legs to escape. One of his hands had found your neck, still wet from his tongue and still bruised from his friend's grasp, to keep your head still as well. 

Hovering above you, blood dripped from his face to yours. Then he bent down, ignoring your weak struggling to free yourself, while his free hand went up to the back of his neck in an agonisingly slow manner. He narrowed his eyes and pulled the knife out, an expression of annoyance on his face that made it look like he were pulling a splinter out of his thumb. 

He stared at the weapon as he brought it down between the two of you, sliding it along your collar bone, wiping his blood onto your skin. The tip of the knife trailed down to the centre between your breasts, and, once more frozen to the spot and unable to think what you were supposed to do, you feared that he would really plunge it into your heart. Later you would realise that that would have been a far too mundane way to end the life of the person who had been endangering their whole plot in a rather irritating manner. No, he'd make you pay, and pay you did. 

Your breath came out of tiny puffs, clouds erupting from your mouth every time you managed to gasp for air. Your throat was dry, and you tried to rack your brain for something, _anything_ you could do to turn the tables one last time. You were so close to killing him, you had so much to lose all of a sudden, you couldn't die now! You had issued this fight yourself, how embarrassing would it be if you were to lose. 

Blackie lifted the knife from your chest bone, still trailing it along your skill in that lazy manner. You felt it move up, back to your collar bone, over your collar bone, up the curve of your neck... It pricked against your cheek but continued to go higher still, and your eyes widened when you realised what he was planning on doing, albeit a bit too late. 

He circled your left eye, his lips once more spreading into that vile smirk as he did so. All he said before plunging your own knife into your eye was, "For blowing mine away."

The scream tore itself from your throat even before the pain hit you. When it did, it felt like something was searing through your head as half of your eyesight faded. Tears welled up and slid down your cheeks, mingling with blood, now not just his. Your voice stopped working, though your mouth remained open. Your whole body trembled, but the sudden clarity that came with the pain seemed to dull it all. 

The hand still holding your shotgun twitched before you grasped it as tight as you could. Lifting it up ever so slightly from the ground, not needing to aim properly with this closeness and not caring for the recoil, it didn't matter that Blackie tensed at the noise. He looked around, frenzied, trying to find the source of the sound, only to hear an explosion and feel himself be blown off of you.

More blood splattered across your body, but you no longer cared. You watched him roll over, yelling in pain, throwing in unintelligible swearwords here and there, clutching at his side as he began to feel the toll of the battle ravaging his own body as well now. Coughs wracked his body and red liquid poured out of his mouth onto the concrete beneath him, but you had no sympathy left for him. If you ever had any for him in the first place.

Pushing yourself up and crawling over to him on your knees, shotgun in tow, you allowed him no more time and quickly brought the butt of the gun to the back of the demon's head. Lifting it up and slamming it down with all the energy that remained in your arms, you repeated the motion until you were sure his brain should have turned into pudding by now. However, you had learned from your previous encounter with a demon that you shouldn't underestimate them when it came to dying. 

Pain washed over you again, though less intense this time, and you reached up to rip out the knife that was still present in your eyeball. You yelped and could feel rather than see more blood flowing, but that didn't stop you from stabbing it where it belonged. The insertion elicited another twitch from the broken body before it crumbled and disappeared before your eye. 

You slumped down a little, finally being able to relax now that the battle was over. Despite the losses, you couldn't help but feel proud. Unburdened, as well, now that you knew that you didn't have to rely on others all the time. It helped to make the sudden fatigue and the throbbing pain in your lost eye bearable. 

When you felt that you had been idle for long enough, you ripped the sleeve of your shirt off, wrapping it around your head to function as a makeshift eyepatch. Then, after testing the strength left in your legs, you got up and unsteadily made your way around the alley to collect your pistols, placing them back into their holsters, dusting off the snow of everything as you went. 

Your body finally gave out when you tried to reclaim your shotgun, your knees once more buckling. Before you could hit the ground, however, a pair of arms appeared under your arms, holding you up and pressing you against some hard and warm. A sigh escaped your lips when you realised that now everything truly was over. 

"I swear, one day, you're going to be the death of me," Dante muttered into your hair before he turned you around and frowned at the damage done to you. All the blood covering you probably made you look worse.

"How did you--" 

He draped his coat over your shoulders to provide some cover for you before he lifted you into his arms, just like he had when the two of you had confronted Atlas together. How long ago had that been, anyway? A few days? A few weeks? _Months_? It sure felt like it.

"You think I'm stupid, don't you? I knew the very moment you closed that door behind you. You're not as unpredictable as you'd like."

"Then why--"

"Great, you think I'm an idiot as well. It's obvious that you wouldn't listen to me. You don't want to prove yourself to me, but to yourself, and there's really nothing I can do to help you with that. And I trusted that you wouldn't just get yourself killed, though I might have been wrong on that part. Went ahead and got yourself a lovely eyepatch instead."

His voice and his words were calm, perhaps even humorous, but there was an angry undertone to it. He was pissed, which was understandable. You'd be pissed too. You promised yourself that you'd try to listen to him a bit more in the future.

Without thinking, you muttered something under your breath, but when Dante asked you to repeat it you promptly forgot what it was that you had said. Even though he was mad at you, he couldn't help but smirk and shake his head. Telling someone you loved them without realising was probably something only you could do, after all. 

The knife you left behind.


	24. Always Here

Only when you had disappeared behind those doors, lying on a gurney, heavily sedated and being pushed by several nurses, did Dante realise the weight of the final words that you had said. The two of you had spent the journey to the hospital in silence, minds running wild, but now that you were out of reach and possibly never returning again, he wished that he had said something in return after all.

No use worrying about that now, though, Dante decided. So instead, he tried to push the whole ordeal, and most importantly those three words, out of his mind and turned to face a rather stricken-looking James. As if the situation hadn't been bad enough for the poor guy as it was. His head probably hurt from hitting the wall and not taking care of himself in favour of keeping your sister company. To make matters worse, _you_ , his boss and his close friend, had gone and done something stupid. _Again_.

"Will she be all right?" he asked, a hand reaching out to grip the sleeve of Dante's trench coat, afraid that the man would disappear without answering if he let go.

"That's what they told me. It's supposed to be a pretty easy procedure, the chances of her dying because of this appear to be almost non-existent. Or something like that," the Devil Hunter replied with a slight shrug to get rid of the boy's grip. 

James frowned slightly. "You're saying that like they're not just patching her up?" 

"Of course I am, she lost her bloody eye!" Dante all but yelled in sudden anger, causing everyone nearby to look up from what they were doing and James took a small step back in surprise.

"She _what_? How? Why?" he stuttered while he gestured wildly with his hands. In the end, as his voice died out, he placed them on top of his head and simply stared at the floor in silence. 

Dante didn't answer and he joined the man in his staring. You had told him that you had loved him. He decided that, since it came from someone like you, you had been telling him the truth. Not to forget that it had seemed like a spur-of-the-moment-thing, something that you had blurted out without thinking, especially since you hadn't even realised it yourself. With nothing to do all of a sudden but think, he had to ask himself whether or not he reciprocated these feelings. Or perhaps the more crucial question was: was it even _smart_ to allow himself to fall in love with someone like you? Would one not be able to see that as a rather self-sabotaging move, considering the way you treated yourself, throwing yourself into the line of fire whenever you got the chance? But then again, he could have stopped you this time. He had known, after all. Did part of the blame not lie on himself?

He let out a sign and ran a hand through his hair, not knowing what he should do. If he could, he would have run off with his sword in tow, eager to find Atlas and chop the demon's head off. If it weren't for the beast to have suddenly disappeared off the face of the planet, perhaps he would have done so long ago. But that did not mean the core of this problem would disappear with that. Somehow, Dante had the feeling that this disregard for yourself was not a new phenomenon. Poor James, having had to put up with all this for far longer. Yet he still hung around as well, didn't he? That had to mean that your company was worth the pain you caused those around you? 

When, who knew how much later, James went back to your sister's room, Dante followed him and they were surprised to see that her eyes were open. A nurse hovered above her, saying things to her that neither of them registered, and they joined her at the side of the bed.

"Where..." was all your sister managed to whisper before she had to cough at the dryness in her throat. The nurse offered her a cup with a little water in it, holding it for her as she gingerly sipped at it. The others had already understood her question, however, and did not allow her to repeat it. 

"Oh, she's fine!" James quipped, the smile on his face a tad too bright.

"Absolutely fine! Never been better!" Dante added with a vigorous nod. 

At hearing that, she smiled and closed her eyes, falling asleep once more.

~~~~

Darkness surrounded you. The only indication of your position was a wall beside you which felt rough against the tips of your fingers as you dragged them along with you, trying to find a way out of the gloom. The pain of your hands dimmed in comparison to the throbbing in your head, which made you squint. Not that it made any difference to your capability to see, since there was nothing to see in the first place. In the end, you no longer knew whether your eyes were even open or not.

You bit your lip to hold back a yelp when the wall next to you suddenly disappeared, almost causing you to topple over. Before you could contemplate the wall's vanishing act and find out where it had gone, you noticed a tiny speck of light ahead of you. You frowned, wondering why you hadn't seen it any sooner, but a sound that tore through the air forced your mind to stop dead in its tracks. 

It had been a yell.

Another followed soon after, this time accompanied by the sound of a whip cracking and something fleshy being hit. Your heart thundered against your ribcage in a painful manner when you realised whose yell it was.

You broke out into a run in the direction of the light and the noise, but soon found something halting your progress. Looking around, you noted that you were surrounded by liquid, your sprinting having turned into wading without you even realising it. You tried to ignore it, tried not to see the suspiciously red tint the waves around you seemed to have, tried to forget that you suspected it wasn't just water. 

Something grasped your leg, holding you back yet again. In the distance, Dante's cries came at an ever faster pace. Your frantic need to help him gave you the power to tear your limb from whatever was holding you, only to force it above water. 

Your breath hitched in your throat when you saw a pair of familiar eyes staring up at you in a lifeless manner, frightening you. One of the many Jane Does this case had caused opened her mouth and moved her tongue in an attempt to say something, but all that she managed was a pained moan. Before you could react, another body submerged next to her, this time one of the Johns. 

Taking a step back, you weren't sure what you were supposed to do. Their eyes were begging you to help them, to save them, to bring justice upon their wrongdoer... And in a flash, they were waving their limbs around in rage, their gazes accusing you of not having tried your best, of not having been able to rescue them. 

You wanted to apologise, wanted to tell them it wasn't your fault, wanted to tell them that there had been nothing you could have done... But you asked yourself, what if it _was_ your fault? You could have worked harder and longer, you could have refused to take any time off until you had caught Atlas. Who knew how many people lay out there, dying, because you had failed to kill it?

And then you had gone ahead and taken the evening off with Dante. 

As if on cue, another yell filled the air and you were forced to tear your gaze from the victims before you who were trying their best to reach you through the water, no, the blood, _their_ blood. They were failing at it, almost moving towards you in slow motion, giving you just enough time to make the decision: what was more important?

Dante or your job? The victims to whom you owed it to save their souls? Or the man who managed to make you feel complete, made you enjoy being alive again? 

The silence from beyond the light was enough to catch your attention and in that moment you realised that there was no way to make this choice. There _was_ no choice. You could no longer help these people, all you could do was prevent any more from joining them in the afterlife. And you would need Dante to do just that. Whatever came after would have to wait for a while. 

The liquid around you gave way as you began to run towards the light once more, leaving the living corpses behind. 

When you finally reached the light, panting, it ended up being some sort of portal into what looked like another dimension, this one consisting of nothing but white walls. The brightness forced you to shield your eyes after having been accustomed to the dark. When you dared to take a look at your surroundings, your stomach churned as you saw Dante.

Half-naked and sitting on his knees, his body bent forwards and his head hanging down. His arms were extended into the air as though he were shackled to something, though there didn't seem to be anything holding them up. His breathing sounded raspy and his chest heaved as he tried to suck in as much air as possible.

You rushed over to his side once you took in the many gashes on his back. They were deep and blood poured out of them, and you dared not to touch him in fear of causing the man any pain. 

The very moment you sat down next to him, his body sagged against you, spontaneously having been released. You wrapped your arms around his shoulder and held him close, flinching whenever he moaned in pain. Tears were streaming down your face and all you could do was whisper his name over and over again to gain his attention, though he never did look up, as you watched him die a slow and painful death in your hold. 

A scream tore itself from your throat and you opened your eyes, or rather your eye, only to be welcomed by a bright room. As if your heart rate hadn't been high enough before awakening, now it seemed to skyrocket at the sight before you. You were still a little sedated, the edges of your vision seeming to blur as you looked to your side, only to see more white. 

"D-Dante..." you managed to whisper as you clumsily raised your hand to your arm in order to rip off all the cables that had been attached to you, the alarming beeping noise that followed only making the pain in your head flare all the more. 

You threw your legs over the edge of the bed and managed to find a certain amount of balance - at least enough to get you to the door in your state of panic. Your hand found the doorknob but forgot that it had to be turned first in order to open, and so you smacked against the door but wouldn't allow yourself to stop and regain your bearings. After a few more attempts, you managed to open it, not closing it behind you as you stepped into the hall. The fact that half of your vision seemed to have disappeared did not bother you in that moment. Neither did the fact that you were most likely wearing one of those horrible hospital gowns that left your backside exposed. 

From somewhere down the hall, Dante poked his head out of the door to your sister's room to see what the commotion was about. His brows shot up at the sight of you spotting and then racing towards him, panic and fear written all over your face. A couple of nurses were hot on your heels, yelling your name and trying to prevent you from harming yourself and those around you, but you ignored all of it.

"Wha--" was all he managed to say before you collided into him, sending both of you falling to the ground. 

He had thought about ending it the next time he saw you. He had wanted to explain to you why he worried that all this could never turn into something proper, something healthy. He would have watched your face fall, vowing not to take his harsh words back, and to leave you be. Or perhaps you would have remained passive, logical even, for he would be speaking the truth and you would know it. You might have nodded, told him you understood, and kept it all inside of you like you usually did. 

He had never imagined that the next time he saw you, you would be lying on top of him, breathing heavily and trembling as your hands held onto his coat with as much strength as you could muster in your current situation. He knew that nobody had ever seen you like this before and he doubted that he'd never get to see it a second time, either.

"What happened?" he asked softly, reaching out to pull your gown together so that your dignity wouldn't be completely shattered. And anyway, _he_ was the only one allowed to see you like that. 

The nurses turned away as they saw that their patient was in what they might have deemed 'good hands', though two of them kneeled down next to him, trying to pry you off with gentle hands. It only managed to make you cling even tighter to the man beneath you, until something seemed to occur to you. You let go of him and checked his body for wounds by pressing your fingers against where you thought they should have been.

"Now I'm not one for proposing doing something less risqué, but don't you think we should continue this somewhere more private?" 

Your hands stopped and you looked up, one eye meeting his. Seeing the emotions, which you normally kept hidden, in your gaze without even having to search for them made him frown. What could have happened that had put you on edge like this?

In the end, you nodded before letting the nurses help you up and guide you back to your room. You looked back to make sure that Dante followed as well. 

Once in your room, you were forced back onto your bed, neither of the nurses leaving you any room to object. It didn't take them long to reattach you to everything and make sure you were comfortable enough, or as comfortable as you were able to get, to leave you be. 

You felt the numbness from before crawl back into your body, and accompanied with it was the panic from your nightmare, the images flashing through your mind. You barely managed to lift your arm in Dante's direction. Though it seemed as if he stood at the very end of the room, in reality he had been sitting right next to you and caught your hand in his even before you had been able to move it. 

"Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere."

The words seeped into your brain and your eyes closed as you realised what they had meant. Then you nodded and almost didn't feel the soft kiss he pressed to your lips as you fell back into the darkness.


	25. Forget Me Not

The next time you opened your eyes and found the world around you a lot clearer than last time, you noticed that Dante no longer sat next to you. Instead, James now occupied the chair next to your bed, as he had done far too often you suddenly realised, his head bent as he read some shitty magazine that he had most likely gotten from the hospital's gift shop and which now lay spread out across his lap. His brows were knitted together as his eyes wandered the pages, looking at the pictures but not reading the texts. 

When he looked up, his body automatically jerked back so that his back rested against the chair, his posture rigid. You had always told him off for ruining his body by sitting like that, after all, and the sight made you quirk a grin. Funny how it seemed that you had changed so much that his bearing no longer seemed that important to you. 

It didn't take long before his eyes, wide in surprise, narrowed at you. He let out an annoyed noise and looked back down at the magazine. This time he read what it said as well, and you knew that he was going to remain silent until either you said something, or he finished reading the magazine. It was quite a thick one, too. You wondered how long it would take him, but then you realised that saying nothing would be worse than trying to fix the situation. 

After letting out a small sigh, you murmured, "I'm sorry." 

A slight tremor ran through the page he held between his fingers and his eyes stopped following the sentence he had been reading.

"Sorry? For what?" he asked without looking up, his voice tightly guarded. He sounded so nonchalant, as though he were asking you about what you had been doing last weekend. To you, it felt like a warning. You were entering a minefield in which every wrong word spoken could mean the end of your friendship. Well, perhaps not _that_ dangerous, but it would most likely define the tone between the two of you. 

"For... For being an idiot," you began, not quite sure how else you were supposed to describe what you had done. Then suddenly it hit you, and you sat up a little while pressing a hand against the bandage covering your eye. "For breaking my promise."

Finally James looked up, the distance he had placed between the two of you disappearing the moment your eyes met. His whole face seemed to soften at your words and you might have noticed his lower lip tremble at the wave of emotions crashing on top of him. It appeared that you had given the correct answer after all. 

"You _promised_. You _always_ keep your promises. Boss, you've changed so much these past few weeks, and I'm not sure whether it's been for better or worse yet," he muttered with a shake of his head. He ran a hand through his head with a sigh before he added, "I mean, the last time you ended up here, you freaked out because _I_ got too close to you, but you're already chumming around with Dante and you even allowed those nurses to touch you. And I'm happy for you about that, I'm glad that you're coming out of your shell, or whatever you want to call it. But if all the improvements are going to bring about things like breaking your promises... You've never been predictable or anything, but for you to actually go against your own word?" 

You held up a hand before the man could continue his rant, and he fell silent. Then you turned it so that the back of your hand was facing him and you bent your fingers a few times to signal him to come closer. With a confused look on his face he obliged, getting up from his chair and moving over to sit next to you on the bed, where you made sure that he had enough space. He opened his mouth to ask you what you were planning on doing but you cut him off by wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him close to you. 

"W-what are you doing?" James stuttered as you felt him freeze beneath your touch. He didn't dare move, tried his best not to relax and take in a deep breath of your scent, as he had wanted to do since the very moment he became intertwined in a complex friendship with you. 

"You know damn well what this is, and I know damn well that you've always wanted this. I also know that you're jealous of Dante." The boy in your arms gulped at hearing that. "Don't try to deny it. Now don't make me say the bloody word and just enjoy it, because you _damn well_ know it's never going to happen again." 

"Ever?" 

"Ever." 

Your friend sighed once more before he finally allowed himself to relax and take in that deep breath. You couldn't help but smile as he buried his nose in the crook of your neck, snaked his arms around your waist and crushed you to his chest - at least with as much strength as he dared to use on you right now. 

"You know, I've missed you," he mumbled after a few moments of silence without pulling away from you.

"You mean me in general or the old me?" you retorted, though you were really just trying to hide your embarrassment at the situation you found yourself in. 

"You know damn well what I mean," James replied as he mimicked your tone. You grumbled something incoherent in response. 

In that very moment, the door opened and a head of white hair appeared. Blue eyes widened in mock surprise as they met your gaze, eyebrows disappearing under a white fringe. 

"I leave you alone for ten minutes and you've woken up and begun cheating on me already?!" Dante yelled. Then he threw his hands into the air, turned around and walked back out of the room, all the while muttering somewhere under his breath. He didn't manage to hide his smile from you. 

With the magic of the moment having been interrupted, you pulled back from James and he reluctantly went to sit back on his chair once more. 

"The reason why I broke the promise was... Well, it was partly because of Dante. You know about demons and all that now, but I've known it since the first time I was hospitalised." James's eyes widened in shock and he opened his mouth to exclaim something, but you held up a finger to silence him before continuing. "I guess I hadn't come to terms with it all yet, and especially since I didn't seem to be able to do anything to them. Dante kept having to save me, after all, and you know how much I hate not being in control..."

"You had to prove yourself? But to whom? To me? To Dante?" James asked, confused. "I doubt he minds. It's what he does, anyway. Before you ask, yes, we talked quite a lot while you were out, seeing as we didn't really have anything else to do." 

You shrugged in response. "I know he wouldn't have minded. But _I_ minded. I had to do it for myself. I don't even know why, exactly. Just believe me that I feel a lot better now and this time I _swear_ I won't do anything like that again."

At hearing that, James began to beam. Before his bubble of happiness could get too big, however, you quickly added, "At least not without Dante."

"Ugh," was all James said in response, sighing and hanging his head. "Should've known."

All you could do was give him a sympathetic pet him on the back, which seemed to cheer him up a little. Neither of you were sure what to say afterwards, and you were certain that a rift had grown between the two of you, despite your attempts to hinder it. It would take a while for things to settle, but you also knew that, somehow, you'd make it work. 

As if reading your thoughts, James spoke his in a soft tone. "Do you think things will ever go back to normal?" 

Sitting back, you stared at the ceiling, your eye wandering across the surface as your mind was filled with the amount of spots you could count while you tried to figure out a response.

"Were things ever actually normal? I mean, you've had a lot of time to think, so you must have come up with a few scenarios about the Chief as well. Did he replace the old one, or has he been what he is all this time?" James shrugged and diverted his gaze to the ground.

"Whatever happens from this point on, I'll make sure that at least that demon is wiped off the face of this planet. With the Chief gone, who knows what will happen at the office, if I'll get my job back. If I even _want_ it back." 

The man next to you looked up in horror and you shot him an apologetic look. 

"You saw those... _things_. I don't even want to think about what they're capable of when they go all out. And there are many more out there, probably even more powerful than these were. And Dante seems to be the only one, or one of the few, who is actually out there, trying to fight those monsters. Somehow, catching murderers and arresting thieves seems rather petty and useless all of a sudden." 

"Are you trying to tell me you're thinking of quitting?" James asked, his shock from moments before having been replaced by a mixture of understanding and the remains of his hope.

You neither shook your head nor nodded, and you kept your face passive, trying not to betray your thoughts through your body language. In the end, not knowing what else you could say without disappointing the boy, you shrugged and replied, "Who knows."

That seemed to satisfy him, and he nodded before the two of you settled down into a companionable silence. James began to flip through his magazine once more while you went back to counting the spots on the ceiling, feeling better now that you had at least cleared part of the trouble. 

Things had changed and the two of you were going to have a lot of adapting to do, but at least you still had each other.

~~~~

Not much later, James went back to check on your sister. It almost felt as though you and your sister had gotten a divorce, and he was the poor kid who had to switch between parents every week or so. He had had a guilty look in his eyes when he had announced that he was leaving, probably arguing with himself about how you were awake but your sister wasn't. His argument had been put to a stop when Dante had barged into the room and taken James's chair from him, shooing him out of the room with no option to protest. It seemed today was full of people who were expecting a whole declaration from you about why you had done what you had done. But then again, they deserved it and you owed them whatever they wanted from you. 

"Doc said that you'll probably be free to go tomorrow. Something about only keeping you here to make sure that something with the wound on your eye not happening. Or something like that," Dante said without waiting for you to greet him. 

You nodded your thanks and shifted back up so that you were in a sitting position again, this time sitting cross-legged. You wanted to ask him a question, one that had been on your mind since waking, but you weren't sure how you were supposed to word it. Even in the state you had been, when you had ran into him after waking for the first time, you had seen the flicker of doubt in his eyes. It hadn't been difficult to think of what it could have meant, especially after your stunt, and you feared whether bringing it up now would only make his hesitation at the decision disappear.

Seeing the serious look on Dante's face, however, pushed you to voice your thoughts anyway. Who knew what would happen if you didn't. 

"Are you..." you began, but found that your mouth was failing you. "Do you... God damn it all." You covered your face with your hands, nails digging into the skin of your forehead as you told yourself to get a grip. Why did your heart give that painful squeeze whenever you wanted to say the words? 

_End it._

_Are you going to end it?_

_Do you want to end it?_

Yes, he was thinking about it, you knew that much. And you knew why. It didn't matter that you felt like begging him to stay with you, that you had already opened yourself up too wide for him to let you fall now. Even though you knew it would have been your own fault in the first place.

A sigh pulled you out of your train of thoughts, making you look up from behind your hands that had turned to fists somewhere along the way. The serious look was still there, but it seemed less reluctant. He had made up his mind, whatever that might mean. 

"I told you that I won't be going anywhere, didn't I? I'm in far too deep, anyway. If you hadn't said those words, I might have left already," he muttered while reaching out for your wrists to free your face. He stared right into your eyes, those blue eyes that had managed to make you blush in the past and that still made your heart race in your chest. 

Frowning, you asked him, "What words?" 

Dante smiled a knowing smile and shook his head. You knew you weren't going to get anything out of him no matter how you pushed, so you let it go. You had a feeling you'd find out soon enough, anyway. 

"But you had been planning on leaving? Because I... Because I'm reckless, right? I get it, you know. I used to wonder the same thing about James, why he would stay by my side even though I treat him like shit, and I treat even myself worse. But he was too stupid to think for himself, so he never thought about leaving. You, on the other hand... I'm going to have to change, aren't I?" 

The half-demon bent forward and surprised you by pressing his lips to your forehead, which still sported slight imprints from your nails. "But you've already changed, haven't you?"

Had you? You had agreed with James when he had talked about it with you, but was it actually true? Had you really changed? You thought back to how you had wondered about how you could have taken a break from your work so easily. And that horrible dream, in which you had chosen Dante. You had given James his first hug ever, too. Was it not true, then? Why was everything about change today, anyway?

Dante tapped a finger to your head, grinning as he did so. "Has anybody ever told you that you think too much? Just believe me when I tell you that, since meeting you, you've changed. And I'll just add that it's been for the better. Now if you can just keep yourself out of trouble, at least when I'm not around, that would be just grand."

Slowly, you nodded. You still weren't quite sure about all of this, just as you hadn't been sure with James. Still weren't. But you'd all manage, somehow. For now, however, you were content with the way things were. 

At least now you had a reason to buy an eyepatch. You had always thought that those things added to one's personality.

In a sudden burst of, well, you weren't quite sure yet, you reached up and grabbed Dante's arm that he had used to flick your head and hadn't retracted yet. You pulled him towards you, he startled a little as you pressed your lips to his. The machine that was keeping track of your heartbeat went crazy as your tongues moved against each other.

Without breaking the kiss, you freed your body of the device and ignored the flatline that filled the air instead.


	26. Ripped Up & Torn Down

"Say, how did you find me in the first place?" you asked Dante as the two of you stood outside of the hospital. You held a cigarette, which the Devil Hunter eyed in dismay, between two fingers, blowing out some smoke while you took in the impressive amount of snow that had fallen all around you.

You had promised that you wouldn't throw yourself into any more dangerous situations, so you had to find another outlet for your frustrations, right? They couldn't just take everything away from you. Thus you had picked up an old habit, though you had always hoped you wouldn't fall back on it: smoking. Oh well, life sucked and then one died. You only live once, that kind of thing, yeah? What did the kids these days call it? YOLO or some sort nonsense like that? 

"I have my ways," Dante replied, nonchalantly running a hand through his hair and flashing you a dashing smile. "You wouldn't believe me anyway."

"Try me." 

The white-haired man opened his mouth to respond, but the moment was interrupted when something jumped on your shoulder. Raising an eyebrow at the sudden pressure, you turned your head to look at whatever now occupied your arm, only to take a startled step back.

With your cigarette held between its paws, that squirrel from your garden sat on your shoulder, sniffing at the filter with what seemed to be a look of pleasure on its face. For some odd reason it wore a miniature fedora with a feather on its head and it gave you a look of disapproval. Then it hurled itself at Dante's shoulder, and once perched on top of it, began to squeak something in his ear. In the meantime, your fingers twitched for another stick, since you couldn't just go on with your day without at least _finishing_ one.

"I'd like to introduce you to my messenger. The one who told me your location," Dante explained. The grin on his face told you that he was enjoying this far too much. "It wants me to tell you that smoking is bad and that you should stop as soon as possible. It is willing to sacrifice its health for you, so if you'd be so kind as to hand over all your cancer sticks..."

You glowered at the animal, shaking your head as you stuck a second one between your lips and lit it. "It took my sandwich and my cigarette. What more does it want?"

"Well, the rest of your cigarettes, obviously." More squeaking in Dante's ear. "And a car. Wait, what do you need a car for?" 

More squeaking.

Dante nodded in understanding as he rubbed his chin. "Ah yeah, that's understandable."

"I think I may have hit my head somewhere," you muttered to yourself while rubbing your face, trying your best to avoid the bandage around your eye. "So is this the infamous demon in squirrel-form or what?"

"Well... Not exactly _infamous_ \--" The squirrel hit him with its newly-acquired cigarette. "Hey, I'm not going to--" Another smack. "Fine, _very_ infamous. Happy now?"

It gave a nod before bouncing back to your shoulder to snatch your second fag. Now with one in each hand, it let itself drop to the ground, where it promptly tried to shove them both into its mouth. 

"Quite the appetite, it seems," Dante remarked, his tone dry. You could only stare down at the beast, your mouth still open from where a cigarette had been only moments ago. 

The squirrel made a few more conversational noises at Dante, nodded its thanks to you and dashed off, climbing up the nearest tree it could find. The two of you watched it leave in silence, and you heaved a sigh of relief once it had passed out of sight. The moment it did, a third cigarette found its way to your mouth. You were _not_ going back in before you had had one, complete smoke. 

"So what did it say? I presume that, since it's your messenger and all that, it had something important to say?" Dante opened his mouth to answer but you quickly added, "Something a little more important than a _car_ , perhaps?" 

He closed his mouth again. A thoughtful look crossed his face, and you raised a questioning eyebrow as you waited for him to speak his mind. He didn't, however, and instead he reached up to snatch the stick from between your lips, dropping it to the ground and stomping on it with his boot. 

"W-what did you do that for?!" you yelled, perplexed. You stared at the scrunched up butt on the ground, your fingers twitching once more, but this time because you wanted to shoot the bloody half-demon. Again.

"All that smoke, it was pissing me off." Dante lifted his shoulders in a shrug, his expression the epitome of innocence all of a sudden. "You can go ahead and ruin your own health, but don't drag me down with ya."

"You could have just told me that!" In revenge, you pulled out your fourth cigarette and were about to put it where it belonged when Dante caught your wrist. 

"Does James know that you're smoking?" 

"It's not like James is the boss of me. I can still do whatever I want."

"What the hell are you guys doing?" came James's voice from somewhere to the side. 

Dante let go of you so that he could point an accusing finger in your direction. The moment you were released, you lit the fag and inhaled deeply, shooting a challenging look towards the man. 

James glanced at you before stepping out from under the doorway to bask in some natural light for the first time since getting there. "At least she's not going out of her way to fight monsters. I'm guessing the chance to die from an encounter with a demon is slightly higher than dying from smoking."

You nodded your head in agreement, crossed your arms over your chest and watched in inner glee as Dante sighed before holding his hands up in defeat. 

"Point taken," he muttered. 

A visible shiver ran down James's spine before he wrapped his arms around himself. "Never mind this. I don't need any fresh air anyway, and it's far too cold. Damned nurses trying to get me away all the time." 

Before either of you could react, the boy had already sauntered back inside, all the while mumbling something about how it had looked warmer outside than it really was. Dante glanced at you and, eyes meeting yours, shrugged.

"To be fair, he _had_ forgotten to put on a coat," he commented, and you nodded in agreement. 

A comfortable silence settled over you. You held your head high, watching the clouds roll by as you continued to smoke while Dante moved to your side. His warmth managed to reach you through both his and your own coat, and for a split second you had to force yourself not to take a step away from him. Old habits die hard, after all.

"So..." he began as he lifted an arm to rub the back of his head. You turned away from the sky to look at him in surprise. Who would have thought that Dante would be at a loss for words for once? "What actually happened with that guy, before I arrived?"

"What? Why?" you asked, your brows knitting together at the sudden question. There was no stopping the tremor that slipped past your guard at the thought of what might have happened if you hadn't been able to fight back. The slight narrowing of his eyes indicated that it hadn't gone unnoticed. 

"Well, you were practically half-naked when I caught you. Doesn't seem like something that would happen by accident, if you ask me. 'Whoops, my coat just fell off', 'oh darn the buttons of my shirt just undid themselves', that kinda shit."

He already knew the answer to that. Why would he ask something he already knew? It was when you looked at his face once more when you realised that he simply hoped that he had been wrong, that he had come to a hasty conclusion. 

"Dante..." you mumbled. Without thinking, you placed a palm against his stubbled cheek, surprising both of you. 

He raised his arm and wrapped his fingers around your wrist, pulling it to the side so that he could plant a kiss on your skin. As he did so, he lowered his eyes in order to break the contact. 

"Then what about that fear of yours?" he continued. He was pretty adamant in getting your confession, or so it seemed. 

You shrugged in response. "After I began to work for the police, I could hear only so much about rape victims and the possible consequences before I became paranoid. And mind you, since I've started carrying a gun around, it's gotten much better. Actually, the pill is really the only thing left."

Dante had no idea how he should react to that. You had said it in such a light tone, as though you had been joking. The content wanted him to travel into the past and give the younger version of you a well-deserved hug. Though she most likely would have shot him before he could even begin to explain.

"And, well..." you began again, your gaze following the cigarette as you dropped it to the ground before squishing it with your shoe. "I wasn't exactly in a situation to hope you were going to save me. As always."

"Happy to be of service," the half-demon replied as he gave a theatrical bow, a grin plastered on his face. He was relieved to see you fighting back a smile of your own. Serious talks weren't his thing, but even so, he had wanted to know for sure. Now all he could do was make sure you wouldn't find yourself in any similar situations in the future.

~~~~

A few hours later, all three of you had practically been thrown out of the hospital, since none of you had required any more medical attention. James had tried clawing his way back in, but in the end he had given up and had gone back home for the first time in days to take that shower he should have had ages ago. You had planned on doing the same at your house, and Dante had insisted on joining you.

That was why he currently lounged on your couch, arms behind his head and his legs crossed as he watched you vacuum the living room. The last time you had been in this room, the two of you had been rather... busy, so you hadn't had the opportunity to take in the mess left behind from the fight on Christmas Eve. Had almost sent you right back to the hospital with a heart attack, it had. Your precious saloon table had been destroyed and blood stained your carpet. You had almost felt like crying; buying new furniture was hell for someone like you.

"Ah, you missed a spot," Dante called out from his seat, even though his eyes were closed. 

You grumbled something under your breath, something about strangling the man next time you had the opportunity to do so, which only elicited more annoying sounds from him. He shook his head while tut-tutting. 

"I'm only doing this for your own good. Wouldn't want you thinking you were done only to find said cursed spot a while later, now would we?"

In response, you lifted the nozzle of the vacuum cleaner and dropped it on Dante's shirt.

"Hey!" he shouted as he pulled himself free. Thankfully the loud noise of the cleaner covered the snort you weren't able to hold back. 

"Ass."

"Hey, I like to believe that I have a fine as hell derrière, if I may say so myself."

You turned the vacuum cleaner off and raised an eyebrow at his claim. He mirrored your look. "Just because you haven't witnessed it yet doesn't give you the right to deny it."

He threw in a sly wink, causing you to drop everything you were doing. Before either of you knew it, you were lying on your bed upstairs, naked, in the blink of an eye. In the meanwhile, you had folded your discarded clothes into a neat stack, and had confirmed Dante's statement about his butt. Now you sat on top of his stomach, marvelling at the smoothness of his skin, while he traced a finger along the bandages you had collected since starting this whole ordeal, a frown marring his face as he did so. 

The first wound, the 'sickle' wound, still had a little healing to do, though you only covered it with simple adhesive dressing. A nasty scar would always remain, however. Then the cut from the bullet that had scratched you, of which only a red mark was visible. Though it had bled like a bitch, the injury itself hadn't been that bad. Then, next to the obvious bandage covering your eye, your forehead adorned a few crusts covering nasty-looking gashes.

He felt you flinch when his fingertips touched the bruise on your neck before he lowered his gaze to the marks that looked like long nails had left them behind. Another bruise had bloomed across your other shoulder, obviously where a boot had been planted. 

Next to all those, his touch had wandered over old scars as well. He had found the places where bullets were still buried inside of you, their scars marking your body like hidden treasures on a map. One only had to follow the chart to get to the valuables. Other blemishes remained as well, though those Dante couldn't identify and you didn't seem willing to explain. 

"Never thought you'd be able to sit here with me like this and not think about sex," you remarked, your voice a whisper as you bent down to rest your head on his chest. 

Dante scoffed. "You believe everything is about sex with me, don't you?"

That got him a raised eyebrow, and, with a grin on his face, he held his hands up. You ignored him and heaved a sigh instead while you continued to trail a finger down his stomach.

"'Sup?"

You hesitated for a moment. "I guess I still haven't completely wrapped my head around... well, around you."

Dante remained silent, waiting for you to elaborate. When it became obvious you weren't planning on doing so, he asked, "What are you talking about?"

"It's like this is some sick joke. I'm always looking at you, thinking that the scars and wounds you're supposed to have will appear out of no where. But they don't. They never will. Yet still I can't help but be confused about it all." And afraid, but you didn't add that. You didn't want him thinking you feared him. Though slowly but surely, a feeling of dread was creeping up on you, like a shadow that kept lengthening the more the sun set. 

Was it possible for him to lose complete control over himself? What if it ever did happen? You had seen, and tried to forget, how he had seemed to transform before your very eyes when Blondie had attacked your house. For a while it had worked, but then suddenly the thoughts had returned with a vengeance. Dante had thought about leaving you, and he had had valid reasons for doing so, but you yourself weren't in a much better situation either.

Were the two of you really supposed to be together? Would it turn out all right, somehow? Even if you grew to love him, and he you, would that be enough for when such a moment might arrive where both of you would be put to the test? 

While stuck in your thoughts, you hadn't noticed that Dante had gotten up on his elbows, staring down at your face with a frown. You were only pulled out of your reverie when he gently pushed you off of him and got up, before gathering his clothes and starting to put them on. All the while you stared at him, confused.

"You know," he began just as he pulled his pants up, "I ain't gonna force this on you. You have just as much right to bail as I do, if it's too much for you, or if you're not ready or some such bullshit."

Words laced with a sour tone made it rather apparent that your attempt to disguise your worries had failed. You had a feeling that this could be counted as your first 'fight' with him, your first quarrel with a boyfriend, and all you could do was sit on your bed feeling slightly aghast. Where had your sharp tongue run off to all of a sudden?

He took his time finding his shirt, waiting for you to say something. Or giving you the chance to do so, but not actually expecting anything. 

And you didn't. For the first time in far too long, your mind remained uncharacteristically blank. You opened your mouth several times, in the hope that you'd blurt out something, _anything_ , reassuring, but your tongue remained numb. 

It wasn't until you heard the door downstairs close with dreadful finality that your mind came back on track. All the things you should have said came pouring out of you, disguised as tears.


	27. Unwanted

Once Dante had left, at first you just sat there, staring off into the distance. All the while you had ignored the tears that were soiling your face. Somewhere in the back of your mind, a voice had asked whether you were even allowed to cry, with the lack of one of your eyes and the recent surgery. Though it hadn't looked like your tear ducts cared all that much about it. 

In contrast to the strange blankness of a few moments ago, your mind had been a whirlwind of thoughts, and you hadn't even been able to register anything that had gone through your head. It had taken you perhaps fifteen minutes, perhaps half an hour, to pull yourself together and get dressed while trying your best to reassure yourself.

Everything would be all right. You hadn't gone through all that effort of opening up for nothing. Things weren't going to change again. He had left you on your own so that you could think this through; his move had in no way meant to make you think that he was actually leaving you. Though you might have preferred that he had stayed, so that the two of you could talk things through together, you knew that him reassuring you and telling you that he wouldn't ever hurt you would never put a permanent end to this worry. Somehow, however, you had a feeling that this would remain with you for the rest of your life. 

Relationship obsessions, also known as ROCD. That's what they were known as. It wouldn't have surprised you if, with your neurotic personality, you could add this trait to your list of flaws. Though while normal people, if that's what one could call them, would ponder about the fact whether or not they loved their significant other, you would always fear the moment Dante's demon side would break out and wreak havoc. 

This is what you repeated in your mind as you made your way to James's apartment, taking care not touch the cracks on the ground; you had already had to start the trip over a couple of times because of that. You had to go by foot because you had forgotten that your car had found its new home with the fishes. Next time you had a free moment, once you had put this whole case behind you, you would buy a new car. 

And anyway, James's home happened to be rather close to yours. It was situated closer to the office, too. That had made it all the worse whenever he had managed to show up late for work, hair and clothes dishevelled. 

You rarely visited the boy's house, since he always preferred to meet up either somewhere in public or at your place. Mainly because he didn't want to seem inconsiderate since he practically lived in a pig sty. Thinking back to that first time you had ever set foot in his home still managed to make you shiver. 

But this time you weren't going to visit him to question his sanity.

"Holy _fuck_!" 

At least, you hadn't planned on doing so.

James, his hair still wet from showering, all but hid behind the door as he scratched the back of his head. "Well, you see, I haven't been home in a while, as you might have guessed, and I swear I was busy cleaning, but then I found this photo album and..."

His voice trailed off when he noticed your lack of reaction. Daring a look in your direction, he saw that you were still staring, no, _gaping_ , at what lay before you. 

Pants, shirts, ties and socks had been slung all over the place. The TV screen had somehow managed to catch a pair of boxers on one of its corners. The coffee table couldn't be seen under the pile of magazines and books scattered across its surface, its sides buried by stacks of DVDs. In what you could see of the kitchen, you noted rows of soda and beer bottles, what you could only presume were leftovers, and plastic wrappings on the counter. Dirty dishes filled the sink. The door to James's bedroom stood open, but you dared not look inside for fear of whatever you might find. 

When your gaze had gone round the apartment a couple of times, it came to rest on James again. By now he sported an expression that almost seemed hopeful. You narrowed your visible eye at him before pulling off your coat and dumping it on top of the man's head. 

"You're going to be the death of me," you muttered as you rolled up your sleeves and began to work. 

James could only agree with you. He hung your coat on a rack that stood beside the door he had just closed and went to help you, following you to the kitchen where you had begun to fill the basin with hot water and dish soap. 

You rinsed the dishes and utensils while he dried them off and put them where they belonged, and for a while both of you remained silent. 

"So," James began once he realised you weren't going to start the conversation, "I'm guessing you didn't come over because your 'cleaning senses' were tingling, right?" 

The sloshing of water stopped for a moment before it returned with a vengeance. You scrubbed until your arms trembled and you handed him the next plate to dry. James shot you an inquiring look, but when it seemed that you weren't planning on replying, he shrugged and continued doing his job. 

A few vigorously-cleaned dishes later, you let your hands relax in the water. You leant forward on your elbows and hung your head so that you could stare at the bubbles beneath you.

"Boss?" 

"How long has this between you and my sister been going on?" you countered. The abruptness of your question almost made him drop what he was holding. 

"W-what are you talking about, boss?" 

"That's right. I'm your boss, and you know why. So stop acting as though I were an idiot and just answer the bloody question."

James looked down for a few seconds. He scratched his forehead, leaving behind a few soap bubbles on his temple. "Uhm, well... For a while now? I guess?"

"And what are you going to do if she'll never get better? She might not die, but she might as well be paralysed. Maybe even worse. She might be a vegetable, she might stay like this forever. What then?"

You resumed the cleaning once more, and this time it was James who kept his mouth shut for a while. You had almost finished when he surprised you with an answer. 

"It doesn't matter what will happen to her, because I... I'll always be by her side. I don't care about what the future might hold, as long as I know that I'll be able to share it with her. Her burdens, they'll be mine to bear as well, and together-- together we'll be able to get through it all, somehow." He looked up from his towel all of a sudden and grinned at you. "Because I love her, okay?"

You stared at him before smiling as well. His cheeks had flushed in embarrassment, and you couldn't help yourself. You reached out and pressed your soppy fingers against his nose, leaving more foam behind. Having finished the rest of the dishes, you dried your hands so that you could begin gathering the clothes that lay scattered about. 

James dried his face off before joining you in your collecting. "Well? Did I pass the test?" 

Surprised, you raised an eyebrow at his question, only to realise that your sudden interrogation could be interpreted as such. You let out a laugh and nodded. "With flying colours." 

Now it was James's turn to look confused, but he didn't linger much longer on the topic and simply shrugged. He went on stacking dirty clothes over his arms to put away.

"Why did you really come here today?" he asked once most of his clothes had disappeared and the carpet that had been underneath the layer had become visible again. "And don't act like I'm stupid, either. I like to think that I've actually learned quite a lot from you, so I know that you're not here just to ask me about your sister and I. Did something happen with Dante?" 

You sighed and ran a hand through your hair. Leaving the clothes for what they were, you moved on to the stack of books and DVDs. Then you began to place them back on their shelves in alphabetical order before opening your mouth. "You know that he's..."

When you didn't finish your sentence, James offered you some help. "Not completely human?" 

"Right. And I can't help but wonder if there's more to it than what I know. He is far stronger and faster than humans, and perhaps even than demons, but he most likely has to exercise a great deal of control over his body. It's like he almost loathes himself for that side of him, and I try not to make it worse, but..."

James disappeared into the small washing room nearby to get rid of his clothes for now.

"But?" he asked when he returned and you still hadn't continued. 

"What if something _does_ happen? If he loses control over himself? What then?"

"How do you even know anything like that will ever happen?" 

"I don't. But _what if_?" 

The boy shook his head with a smile on his face. "I always thought that the moment you'd actually open up to me would be a triumphant one. Now I see it's not as interesting in that head of yours as I'd hoped."

" _James_!" you snapped at him, frustrated and embarrassed. He had been the one to ask about this. Though for some reason you had felt like answering. 

You turned your back to him and started tidying his room again, this time with more gusto than before. When James took a step forward, you ignored him. At least until he placed a hand on your shoulder, forcing you to turn around and look at him. You made sure to display your emotions, glaring daggers at him as you crossed your arms over your chest.

"Look. You know Dante better than I do, and even _I_ know that that guy would rather kill himself than harm an innocent person, especially you. If it ever were to happen, and somehow I doubt that, then it'd be more likely that it would be _for_ you, not _against_ you. He'd protect you, not hurt you. And you know that as well, but still you're doubting him for some reason." James took a step back before bending down to gather some more magazines in his arms. "I believe I've said too much now. If Dante left you on your own while you were having such thoughts, I bet he'd meant for you to figure it out by yourself."

That earned him a look of awe, and now it was his turn to quirk a brow at you. You couldn't remember him having done so ever before. 

It only took him a few moments before a grin broke out across his face. "Well, consider it a gift from me, to thank you for all you've done for me. And because you deserve to be happy, no matter how dense you can be."

Yes, you felt proud of him in that moment, but that didn't give him the right to call you dense. You made sure to convey these thoughts by raising your foot and planting your heel on his toes. After pulling a yelp from the man, you let out a triumphant harrumph and went back to work. 

These thoughts would probably never leave you. But thinking about it, James had spoken the truth. Dante did make you happy, and you found being near him worth the risk of your fear ever coming true. And even if it did happen, the two of you would somehow manage to get through it all. What had James said only a short while ago? He didn't care what the future might hold, as long as he could share it with your sister? Her burdens would be his to bear? If a pansy like him could make such a promise, then surely you could do so as well, right?

~~~~

For some reason, cleaning always had a meditative effect on you. It not only cleared your surroundings of clutter, it also rid your mind of any unwanted thoughts, albeit temporarily. Thus you found yourself in a state of tranquillity as you walked down the street. You were making your way to Dante's shop in the hope that you'd find the man himself somewhere nearby. Waiting for him to find you and listen to your answer didn't seem like a smart thing to do with the way things stood. You had decided to bring your response to him instead.

Were it any other day, you would have been going over and over what you would say to him once you got there. You would have found the perfect formulation of your thoughts, only to forget the exact words as you tried to reproduce the sentence and be forced to think of another way to say what was on your mind. Today, however, since your brain had taken on a state of peace and quiet, you did no such thing and simply let your feet guide you towards that which had frightened you at first. After all, your initial encounter with Dante hadn't been the best, what with the cluttered state of his house. Yet another peculiarity you would have noted if you hadn't been in this state of mind. 

Digging your hands deeper into your coat pockets to ward off the cold around you, you quickened your pace. It had stopped snowing for a while, and you didn't want to get caught in yet another sudden downpour as you made your way to Devil May Cry. In fact, you would have been happy if winter just disappeared altogether. The worst cases always seemed to take place in winter for some reason. 

You were just about to cross a street when a shiver ran up your spine. Freezing to the spot, you wondered whether you were just cold, or... 

Before you could finish the thought, a hand clasped over your mouth. Your fingers twitched and made a desperate attempt to grasp your guns, but by then you had already been swallowed up by darkness.


	28. Starscapes

A weak smile graced her lips as she looked up at him. He returned it and gave her hand that he had secured in his grasp a squeeze, as if to tell her that all would be just fine. With his free hand, he brushed strands of her hair out of her face, after which she thanked him. Her voice sounded raspy from disuse.

The tender moment was interrupted by the door that someone opened, slamming it against the wall. Both occupants looked up in surprise, only to relax when they recognised the intruder.

"Ah, Dante," James greeted the newcomer, "what are you doing here?"

The devil hunter looked as though that should have been obvious. After glancing around, he realised that perhaps it hadn't been that obvious after all. "Has she gone to the toilet?"

"Who?" After a moment of confusion, James corrected himself. "Oh, you mean boss! I haven't seen her all week. The last time was when we got kicked out of the hospital. When she left I had actually presumed that she'd go straight to you... You mean, she didn't?"

"Nope." The puzzlement remained as both men stared at each other. 

Then, all of a sudden, a thin voice floated through the air. "Maybe something's wrong?"

As if James had forgotten her existence, he turned back to his girlfriend, waving his arms about in a frantic manner.

"Don't you worry about your sister! She's fine. Dante will make sure of it," he said, trying to reassure her. He shot a look at the half-demon that spelled many painful things for him if he didn't comply. "Won't he?"

The man in question raised an eyebrow, almost challenging the boy to try and harm even a white hair on his head. Just to please the woman in the room, he nodded. "You can count on it."

~~~~

Blackness all around you. Shadow lurked wherever you looked. For a moment, you wondered whether you were having that dream again, but when your eyes adjusted themselves to the lack of light, you realised you sat in a small room. 

Handcuffed to a chair. 

Naked. 

And drugged. Thankfully, too, for you didn't want to know what your reaction would have been to everything had you not felt the vaguely familiar drowsiness keep you from completely resurfacing into consciousness. 

Still, you weren't so far gone yet that you did not recognise the urgency of the situation. You remembered fainting all of a sudden after being grabbed. There had been several more times you had woken up before, though you couldn't remember much, if anything at all, of those moments. 

You tried to move about and found that the cuffs tying your wrists to the back of the chair had been closed too tight to allow you to slip out of with ease. You could always break your thumbs, especially while you still happened to be drugged, but the uncertainty of people who might be nearby stopped you from doing so just yet. If you were to escape then you didn't want to get recaptured. 

With your eyesight completely adjusted to the gloom surrounding you, a quick look around taught you more than just the size of the room. It had no windows, and a light bulb hung from the ceiling. Its switch was situated next to the only door to the room. Your chair had been placed with its back to the opposite wall, so the door was right in front of you. Tilting your head to the side and trying your very best to ignore the loud, sluggish noise of your heart beating inside of your head, you attempted to discern any sounds from outside of the room. There appeared to be no traffic and no people nearby, but you couldn't be sure whether you were just too far gone to notice or whether the place had actually been deserted. 

Before you could plan any further, however, your eyelids grew heavy. Your body suddenly giving in to euphoric bliss, you sagged forward with such force that, chair and all, you toppled over. You fell in a spiralling manner, somehow managing to land on your shoulder instead of your head. The drugs that filled up your system prevented you from feeling any real discomfort, and so you drifted off to sleep again.

~~~~

Scratching his head, Dante stood before the house, waiting for the door to open. When it remained closed, he looked around to see if there was anybody nearby before digging up the key you had given him a while ago. Whether or not you had planned on having him return it he had no idea, but for now he would make good use of it. 

Once inside, he closed the door behind him, making not a single sound in the process of doing so. Then he tilted his head and listened, despite the fact that he already knew nobody had been inside this building for approximately a week. He could still hope, couldn't he?

When, as predicted, silence greeted him, he decided to venture further into the house. Just to be sure. Who knew, he might have grown old all of a sudden and lost part of his senses. He was no longer the youngest man around, after all. 

He found the kitchen as he had expected it: clean and deserted. Not a single dirty dish in sight. The garden hadn't been set foot in for a few days, either. On his way up the stairs, what little hope he had secretly been harbouring slipped away, like ashes falling through fingers. 

Dante placed his palms against the wood of the door, hesitating before pushing it open and entering the bedroom. The memory of his previous stay still managed to sting him, even though he could understand your point of view. He had also known why you had tried your best to keep your feelings hidden from him, but that hadn't been of any help in that moment. He had never hated himself more than in those few seconds of hesitation on your part. 

It surprised him how much power you held over him, even though you yourself didn't realise it. As he made his way into the room and looked around to find it as he had expected, he almost thought it funny how naive someone like you could be. He continued to walk until his shins hit the edge of your bed. Somehow the sight of it surprised him; you had put clean sheets on it since the last time he had been here, all signs of use gone. Almost as if what had happened in the past hadn't taken place after all; the wiping away of memories. As if this hadn't been the place where your words had almost crushed his heart. 

Pushing those thoughts out of his mind, Dante once more concentrated on the situation at hand. You had found your answer, or so James had seemed to imply when he told Dante that you had wanted to meet him. He knew you weren't a coward, that you wouldn't hide away from him because of something like this. Which meant that your absence couldn't be your own doing. 

Now Dante _had_ to admit that his first theory had been right. Either some criminal had really bad timing, or Atlas had managed to get a hold of you. He must have gotten rather desperate, to make such a bold move in broad daylight. And then again, perhaps they should have expected something like this. They had gotten rid of his demon slaves, after all. 

The devil hunter pulled out his phone and began to search James's number.

~~~~

You didn't know how many times you had woken up in the meantime, but this time you were able to pull your mind out of its slumber because something had changed. You no longer lay on the floor, and it seemed that you had company. 

The Chief stood before you, holding your arm in one hand and a needle in the other. He had wrapped a piece of cloth around your bicep and now busied himself with finding a vein in which to insert whatever drugs he had at his disposal. The pathetic light bulb didn't help him at all, but he seemed to be in a patient mood. 

With your system no longer supporting any substances that didn't belong there, you could see your surroundings with surprising clarity. Whatever panic attempted to bubble up, you squished violently before it could take hold of you. 

On the other hand, you now felt the weariness in your body. Your mouth was dry and it hurt to swallow, because you hadn't had a lot of water to drink since being captured. Next to that, your stomach had given up growling in hunger, opting to preserve the energy that would have cost for other things. 

Chief, or should you say _Atlas_ , noticed that you had opened your eyes, and his lips turned into a smile. It was such an affectionate yet sad expression, as though he were taking care of a sick loved one. Administrating a necessary evil for the greater good. 

Behind that look, however, you could see his eagerness burning at the prospect of having you awake and, for now, fully conscious. He wanted you to be frightened, or at the very least angry. Perhaps even confused, or shocked. He wanted you to ask questions; questions any normal person would ask in a situation like this. 'What are you doing to me?' 'Why are you doing this?' 'What's going to happen to me?'

But you remained silent and calm, watching his movements with a calculating gaze that, for once, caused _him_ to feel uneasiness at _your_ presence. At seeing him falter for a split second, you had to do your best to hide your smugness. How did he like it? The shiver that ran through his body, the hair on the back of his neck raised up? 

Acting as if nothing had happened, he replied to the inquiries you never made. "I bet you're wondering what I'm planning on doing."

He waited a short while, hoping for some kind of reaction from you as he continued to twist your arm this way and that, though you didn't give him this pleasure. Your other hand had remained cuffed to the chair, but you doubted you even had enough energy to free your arm that Atlas held in his hand. 

Of course you hid this fact from your captor and simply continued your stony glare directed towards him, which caused him to get on with whatever he planned on doing. "I thought of raping you, but found that I'd have to involve someone else for this, which would've been a hassle. You humans are so squishy, I can't understand how your race is doing so well, overpopulation threatening the planet and all that."

His next pause only lasted a few seconds. He had already stopped hoping for a reaction.

"Then I wondered whether I should just cause an overdose, but that seems like a very... ordinary way to go as a human. Plus, I wonder how much pain one would actually go through. And then there's the problem of the chance of survival being too large. Then perhaps I should just give you too much of this shit so that I can bring you back. That would be rather uncomfortable, but say that you're lucky, or unlucky, whichever you prefer, and _do_ die in one go. What a dilemma."

Then what did he plan on doing now? You couldn't stop yourself before the question had been asked in your mind, and you began to burn with both curiosity and fear. He obviously wanted you to suffer after everything you had done, but what use could keeping you drugged possibly have? 

The demon had finally found what he needed, plunging the needle into your skin and inserting the drug into your system. You hoped he would continue talking, so that perhaps he would reveal something else. But he remained silent, placing the needle to the side and watching your reaction as you could already see the effects it had on your vision. 

He began to click his tongue, almost in disappointment. "It surprises me to find out that someone like you has done this kind of thing before. I wonder what that boyfriend of yours will think when he finds out that you haven't been the good girl you always claimed to be."

Squeezing your eyes shut, you couldn't defend yourself against the wave of panic that washed over you now that your mind had been altered like this. The thought of Dante finding out about that part of you, of which you weren't exactly proud, combined with the danger of the situation took over. You began to struggle against your bonds, against the demon's hand as he tied your other hand to the back of the chair as well, but your movements became sluggish and delayed. Chief even chuckled at your attempts, before he got up and left.

~~~~

His eyebrows dipped down into a frown, Dante felt his frustration grow with each passing minute. He stood in front of the house which James had told him should have been the demon's home, but that, too, was empty. He hadn't even tried to hide his presence from any potential monsters, had thought that would make the whole thing easier. Yet here he stood, outside once more after having combed through the entire building several times, his investigation fruitless. There hadn't been any basements, no hidden doors, no garden in which a bunker of sorts could have been built. The neighbourhood consisted only of other houses which all looked the same, and Dante knew for sure you couldn't be anywhere nearby. He had made sure of that. 

But you had to be _somewhere_. You couldn't have vanished into thin air. 

That thought stopped him dead in his tracks. 

What if you had?

~~~~

The very moment you woke up again, your mind was set on escaping. You didn't want to remain here any longer than necessary, especially now that Atlas had revealed that, whatever he planned on doing, it would be painful. A fog remained behind, covering your mind, and for this you were glad as you brought your hands together and tried to reach out for your thumb. You didn't give yourself enough time to think this through, wanted to get out here as soon as possible, and so you began to pull and twist your finger, trying your very best not to think of what you were trying to do. 

Even with the drugs making everything seem far away, the sudden pain caused by the dislocation made you yelp, tears gathering in your eyes. You forced yourself to take deep breaths, to stop the world around you from swirling about, though you didn't know if that was even the fault of your thumb.

When you felt steady enough, you carefully slipped your hand from the cuff and got up at once. You didn't bother investigating the room before making your way to the door, albeit a bit unsteady on your feet, for you knew that you wouldn't find anything of interest. Escaping was your priority, and if you could find something for your finger then that would be a nice bonus. 

Impatient, you opened the door as quick as you could without making any noise, but the sight before you forced you to take a step back. Wherever you were, this place couldn't possibly be considered Earth. 

This world had literally been turned upside down.


	29. Wasted

The sight before you forced you to take an unsteady step back. Fingers curled around the doorknob tightened their grasp as though that were the only thing keeping you anchored to sanity. Something which seemed almost impossible as you took in your surroundings. 

What had seemed like a mere shack, or a rundown house, ended up being more like a room in what looked like some kind of courtyard. More buildings surrounded you to the left, the right and to the front, on the other side of what might once have been a bounteous, lush garden. Now only barren wasteland filled the small field. 

The blue sky you expected to see when you looked up had been replaced with something unnaturally red. It gave you the feeling of pressing down on you, as if a pressure tried to squash you. Even then, other platforms of sorts blocked your view of most of the redness, pieces of rock and ground hovering above you, adorned by buildings that must have been of the same kind as the one you currently found yourself in.

Without thinking, you closed the door and pressed your bare back to the cold wood. You sank to the ground and inhaled deeply, ignoring the stale smell filling your nose. Perhaps this just happened to be a hallucination, the effect of the drugs on your mind. As time passed by, it became increasingly difficult to keep up this train of thought, especially when you realised that the odour filling the air reminded you of blood.

Just then, you registered the sound of something dripping. At first, your whole body went rigid at the new noise before you reprimanded yourself. It had probably been there all along; you just hadn't noticed it until now. Still, combined with the smell that by now almost had you gagging as it seemed to become stronger with every passing moment, one could consider the images your mind conjured less than cheerful. 

Knees weak and legs shaking, you pushed yourself back up with the help of the door. Your vision began to swim, but you ignored it. Someone had been able to bring you here, wherever 'here' was, which meant you could also find your way back. Somehow. 

You opened the door again and shot a quick look into the courtyard, counting one... two... three... four other doorways before you left the room. With your back pressed against the stone wall, you made your way to the room to the right, almost slipping a few times as you did so. When you tried to enter it, you found it to be locked, and the only other doors were on the opposite side of the garden. 

Why did this place have so much room when the owners, whoever or whatever they were, had only put in a few doors? 

Whatever the case, if you ever wanted to get out of here you would have to make your way around the courtyard. The coolness of the stones beneath your feet helped you remain in the present, your drugged mind threatening to lose its concentration on several occasions. 

Halfway to the other side, your feet forced you to your hands and knees, the swaying of your body almost causing you to topple over. There you sat for what must have been a few minutes, the sound of your heart beating erratically almost deafening as you continued to pant, sweat and shiver on the ground.

What were you going to do? What _could_ you do? There had to be a way out of here, right? But where would you find it? How would you... open it? Would it look like a simple door, or perhaps one had to teleport oneself here and back?

By now, you had accepted the fact that you most likely found yourself in the infamous demon world. Chief/Atlas had probably brought you here to make finding you harder for Dante. He couldn't exactly take his sweet time torturing you when a certain half demon was hot on his heels, now could he? 

Swallowing hard, you pushed yourself back to your feet. Your body still trembled all over, but you felt fit enough to continue once more. You didn't want to stay here any longer than necessary. 

The smell of blood had gotten worse as you crossed the area, and you felt the need to throw up as you opened the first door you reached. Whatever caused this smell, this room contained it. You almost turned away and went on to the next door, but the possibility of what you needed being in this room prevented you from leaving. 

Taking in a deep breath, you counted to three before throwing the door open, the stench from inside practically hitting you like a brick wall, causing you to stumble to the ground. You pressed your hands against your mouth and nose as you tried to peer into the chamber through tear filled eyes. 

Thankfully, whatever produced the stench looked to be dead, a mound of flesh and bones that lay in the corner. Who knew what it used to be, whether human or animal or... demon. You tried not to think about how you might have suffered the same fate if you hadn't freed yourself. You hadn't escaped yet, so you just might have been looking at your future anyway. 

A quick look around taught you that nothing inside could help you, though your gaze fell on a large piece of cloth on the ground. For a few moments, you contemplated whether it would be worth it to fetch it and use it as a piece of clothing. For once, however, your mind didn't feel like thinking things through. Your body was cold and, despite the smell of the cloth, it would probably provide warmth, no matter how little. 

Thus you found yourself crawling farther into this nightmare, one hand pressed against your face while the other reached out to grab the stained cloth. It looked like it had once been blue, but now it mostly sported a crimson colour. Though it smelled of blood and other things you didn't want to think about, you were lucky enough to be able to ignore it once you got used to it. 

You first tore off a strip of cloth to bind your thumb in order to lessen the painful throbbing. Then you slung it over your shoulders and wrapping it around your form. Now less cold than before, you continued down the path to the next door. Breathing became a little easier with every step you took away from the dead body. 

The moment your hand grasped the doorknob, it fell off. You stared at the object in your hand for a few moments before you realised what had just happened. When you did, you dropped it to the ground, wincing at the noise it made as it hit the stones. Pressing your hands against the wooden surface, you found that it opened as if by itself, the hinges omitting an ominous creak as it did so. 

Ignoring the shiver in your spine caused by the sound, you noticed that this room looked lighter than the others you had seen until now. Perhaps some weird demon magic caused it, but you didn't pay it any more attention as you stepped into the space. A desk stood in the centre, and hooks had been inserted into one of the walls. Hundreds of keys must have hung from them, and in that moment you realised something rather crucial.

Why hadn't your prison been locked? 

Just then, a chuckle filled the air.

It was all you needed to jump into action, making your way towards the desk to search for a hiding spot. The door closed itself behind you, but you had no time to ponder this.

On the surface of the desk stood an inkpot with a quill inside of it. Several blotches of dark ink stained the surface of the desk, though you could see no paper on which one would want to write. Next to the pot lay a few knives, their sharp sides jagged and covered with the blood of you didn't want to know what. You grabbed two of them before dropping to your knees and crawling into the space under the desk, pulling the chair that stood in front of it as close to you as possible. 

Just in time, too, for the door swung open once more as soon as you had settled down. 

You stopped breathing and listened to the footsteps, dread filling you when you counted four instead of two. Something with four legs would never not find you in a position like this. As if it would be of any help to you, you wrapped the fetid piece of cloth tighter around your frame and buried your head in it while you continued to count the steps taken in your direction. When the noise moved around to the front of the desk, your mind went blank with terror. 

From the corner of your eye, you saw the familiar glint of a certain demon. With its height only its belly came into sight, though it had lowered its head to the ground and moved it about. It took you a few moments before you realised it was _sniffing_ , and in a flash you remembered how you had managed to take out both its eyes a while back. Despite the hopelessness of the situation, in that moment you felt like you had a chance to get out of here. If you had somehow been able to damage its body, then you could kill it as well. 

Atlas growled as if to curse before it turned and left the room, the door shutting with a slam. 

You didn't know for how long you sat there, but you didn't dare to move as you waited for your heart to stop trying to break free from your behind your ribs. By then you had realised that Atlas relied mostly on its nose and any other demonic senses it might have had. Your finding this blanket had most likely saved your life, its smell turning out to be a blessing. Now you only had to hope that the demon didn't have any more lackeys in this... dimension. 

After crawling out from under the desk, measly knives still in hand, you stared at the keys on the wall. Why did someone need so many of them in the first place? You doubted this many room could even be in this castle, or whatever it was, to begin with. 

Maybe the key for that one door wasn't here. Perhaps the door just happened to be jammed. Then again, Atlas probably wouldn't lock you up in the room next to the one that offered you a way out of this place, right? 

But _what if_...?

Heaving a sigh, you realised that you wouldn't win this fight with yourself, so you stepped up to the wall and plucked as many of them from their hooks as you could carry, moving as fast as you could while making as little noise as possible. With a heap of them, and the knives, in your hands, you moved towards the door, pressing your elbow against the side of it to pull it open. You cringed at the creak it emitted and tried to compensate by crossing the yard as quietly as you could. 

With trembling hands you reached the door where you knelt beside it to dump the keys to the cold stones, laying the knives to the side. After staring at the keys for a few seconds, you just grabbed one of them without thinking and tried to insert it into the keyhole, missing a few times due to the shaking of your arms. It didn't fit and so you placed it behind you while you picked up the next one.

Drops of sweat slid down your temple and into your eye, and your stomach began to churn once you had discarded half of the blasted keys. The smell of the makeshift cloak surrounding you became worse and you found yourself gagging, pressing a calloused hand to your mouth and closing your eyes in an attempt to calm your nerves.

What if you didn't make it after all? It seemed impossible to get out a place like this, where demons might have been lurking around every corner. Just because you had managed to kill a few of those did not make you any better than all the other humans. And anyway, you had always gone to those battles prepared, or you had had Dante by your side. 

Dante. What would happen to him if you failed? Would he even know where to find you, or your body? He would never get any closure. After all the trouble both of you had gone through to get here, only to have it end like this...

You shook your head at this thought before lifting your chin and glaring at the door in front of you. Determination filled you; barely there, but there nonetheless. 

Reaching for another key, you worked your way through the rest of the pile, your sudden bravery waning with every time the lock wouldn't open. What if the one you needed still hung in the other room? What if it hadn't even been there in the first place? What if you were simply wasting your time? 

That train of thought came to an abrupt halt once you had picked up the final key, but you wouldn't find out whether it fit the lock or not. Your senses had been dulled by the smell of your garment, by the despair which filled you and by the drugs that hadn't completely left your system just yet, and thus you realised you had company only when you heard the heavy footsteps behind you. 

You gasped and, instinctively taking one of the bloodied knives with you, got to your feet. Turning around, back pressed to the wall, you came face to 'face' with the bane of your existence. The stones behind you provided much needed support as you took in that familiar, strangely human smirk on the demon's face, and your knuckles turned white, clinging to your weapon as though your life depended on it.

Still, what would one meagre blade do when your bullets had only managed to blind him? You couldn't even properly wield two of them in your current state. 

Your body shook as you held your breath, willing it to work once more. You almost feared that Atlas could hear your heart racing in your chest, or that your trembling sent out minuscule movements in the air that would reveal your position. And why hadn't it said anything yet? It had always liked using its mouth, why would it suddenly choose silence over degrading you and the entire human race?

Whatever the case, fleeing was the best option you had in this situation. You eyed the final doorway and wondered how long it would take you to reach it. However, you still had this room you hadn't been able to check yet. What if this one really did contain the way out? What was the harm in checking it? Other than Atlas using the chance to kill you, perhaps. 

A battle between body and mind; your mind begging your body to follow its lead while your body refused to do what it said. Not often did it happen that you wished your body had won the battle, for before you knew it you had pushed yourself off of the wall, in the direction of the locked door.

The sound of your feet tapping against the ground and the rush of wind caused by your sudden movement attracted the demon's attention, its head snapping in your direction. You dared not to turn and look as you took the few steps towards the door, pressing the front of your body to it before you looked over your shoulder, only to see Atlas rushing towards you.

Grinning and trembling at the same time, you stood still for a few moments, trying to catch your breath as you did so. Too soon for your liking, however, you had to jump out of the way to miss being hit by Atlas's head as it collided with the wood of the door. It cursed just before you heard it run against another wall and you peered into the room only to be disappointed: a room, empty and even smaller than the one in which you had been kept. It looked barely big enough to contain Atlas, though you realised that it had somehow managed to change its size: this version of Atlas happened to be much smaller than the Atlas which you had always confronted, which had been able to fill up an entire alleyway. 

Before you could flee, the demon's tail, waving around precariously, managed to graze your arm. You winced and pressed a hand against the scratches before you turned on your heel and ran in the direction of the last door, all the while trying your best not to think about the fact that you had most likely been poisoned by Atlas's thorns. Still, you felt much lighter now that you knew for sure nothing here could help you return to the normal world. 

Once you reached the final doorway, you noticed that it looked more like a gate than a door. Unfortunately, you smacked against the iron bars, since you hadn't expected it to be locked. Not giving yourself the time to panic about this, you wormed your way through the rods and barely succeeded in doing so. Just in time, too, for you could hear that Atlas had managed to get out of the room as well. 

Without looking back you took off, passing doors that you didn't dare check with Atlas hot on your heels. You took corners almost at random, the smell of demons almost becoming unbearable as you thought you could hear heavy steps right behind you. Your feet ached, your eye - or lack thereof - hurt, and your thumb kept throbbing, but you ignored all of it. You didn't even acknowledge the rasping sound of your breath in your ears, didn't try to swallow because your throat would hurt. 

And then you realised you had literally run into a dead end.


	30. Homebound

Pressing your hands against the wall before you, you had to do your very best not to burst into tears right then and there. Why did everything seem to want to give you a hard time? Why couldn't luck be on your side just this once? You had no idea what this poison would do, whether it would kill you within the hour or whether it would pass after a while.

You turned around and rested your back against the cool stones behind you as you rubbed the wound on your arm, which began to become numb. Though you didn't know whether you preferred the numbness to the burning sting from before, you had no time to contemplate this development as you heard something moving towards you. As you pressed yourself into one of the corners beside you, trying to make yourself as small of possible, the dim light reflected off of Atlas's scales, revealing its position to you. 

"You know, I find it quite funny how you have changed over the course of our... interesting relationship," it began as it cautiously neared the end of the alley, its head tilting this way and that. "It seems you have finally gotten rid of that big mouth of yours. I wonder where it went. Perhaps that boyfriend of yours has managed to tame you?"

You let go of your arm and instead tightened your grip on the knife in your hands. You tried to formulate a plan of escape, willing yourself to think of something because it wouldn't take long for Atlas to get here. 

"Or perhaps you underwent some serious life changes when you realised that you, in fact, are a murderer. You're no better than all those people you've captured during your life. You kill in cold blood, just like they did." 

Swallowing hard, you tried to ignore its words, though nevertheless your grip on your weapon relaxed. 

"You treat that half-demon of yours as any other normal human being, after all. Why? Because he _looks_ like any other normal human being? But the demons you killed did too, didn't they? What makes killing them any different than killing an actual human, hm?"

You squeezed your eyes shut and, with as little noise as possible, took a deep breath. Atlas only wanted to upset you, to distract you from its advance. Nodding to yourself, you once more tightened your hold on the knife. Still, you couldn't deny that Atlas had managed to shaken your resolve, but you should contemplate these things when you had managed to get out of here alive. 

"I know you're here somewhere," it murmured and smirked. 

In a desperate attempt to do _something_ , you rushed towards the demon. Atlas looked taken aback by your head-on assault and actually stood still for a moment, unable to move as it waited for your blow.

You used its moment of stillness to your advantage and, just before reaching it, you slid to your knees. Atlas happened to be large enough for you to fit beneath him, and once you came to a halt between its front legs, you grunted and thrust your knife up into its chest. The demon let out a howl in response, but before it could move, you had pushed yourself off the ground and into the direction of its hind legs, dragging the knife along with you as you went. 

Going by the amount of blood that splashed down on top of you as you slid under Atlas's body, you had somehow managed to make quite a wound after all. Apparently that 'meagre' knife hadn't been so meagre after all. 

Breathing heavily, you hadn't the strength left to pull your weapon out of the demon's guts, so instead you crawled out from underneath it before running off again, wincing at its yells of pain. Soon you would find out whether any other demons roamed the area, for the sounds Atlas emitted would surely attract the attention of anything in the near vicinity. 

As the answering cries from other monsters filled the air, you held your numb arm against your body and tried your best to ignore the occasional muscle twitch. Soon, you would be out here and you would get it checked. Perhaps Dante would know what to do. And if not you didn't escape, you would most likely be dead. The poison wouldn't matter then. 

You began to taste blood at the back of your mouth and knew you had exerted your body too much. Still, you couldn't possibly give up now. From paths to the left and right you heard horrible, inhuman noises combined with even worse stenches that spurred you on. Even though your body felt like falling apart, even though you had no idea where you were headed. 

Rounding a corner, you stopped when you saw a couple of monsters almost clambering over each other to reach you first. You didn't wait to find out who would win, and took off in the opposite direction. 

You managed to throw open a few more doors as you fled from the oncoming horde of demons, but found nothing of import behind any of them. You probably had to find one of those portals like Blackie had used with you. Though you had no idea what it had looked like, you knew for sure that something like that would stick out like a sore thumb, even in a place like this. 

After what felt like eternity, your legs forced you to stop. Leaning against a wall, your gasping for air felt more like thousands of tiny needles slicing through your throat. At the same time your spleen felt like it would erupt if you took one more step, and the heaving of your chest wasn't exactly helping either. 

The indescribable sounds from behind you spurred you back into action, albeit at a slower pace. Yet another wall came rushing towards you and before making the mistake of running into a dead end once more, you took a corner, only to bump into--

Barely holding back the high-pitched noise that almost escaped your mouth, you stared up at the demon before you. You immediately noted the differences between this one and the group of them chasing you, taking in the brightly glowing mark that spread out across its chest and down its abdomen. Its eyes, which had the same yellow shine, stared down at you in an almost calm manner, as if calculating your response while you took in its scales and claws.

When the demon reached a hand out to you, you took a step back, biting your tongue in order to stop yourself from giving your panic a voice. It stopped moving its hand towards you and seemed to hesitate for a split second. Just as it began to pull its arm back, its head snapped up all of a sudden.

This time without waiting for your reaction, it took hold of your numb arm and pulled you behind it with one hand. In the split second before you came face to face with its back, you noticed that in the other it held a strangely familiar sword, which in your moment of confusion didn't quite jog your memory.

Pulling you along, it walked straight into the horde which had been after you. They looked up in surprise at this development, if that was even possible. In the split second of their inaction, the demon which seemed to be on your side had hoisted you onto its back, jostling you with the surprising speed of its movements. With its sword aimed to the front, it almost seemed to glide across the floor as if by itself, piercing through everything that stood in its path. At the end of the line, it turned to face the few remaining monsters, hacking, slashing and slicing at everything and anything that tried to move out of the way. 

All the while, it kept one arm wrapped around you, securing your position against its back. As you watched in disbelief at the power this creature beneath you exercised, dizzy because of its quickness, you realised it had a tuft of white hair on the top of its head. In this moment you also saw how its red scales vaguely resembled a certain half-demon's coat, and you stiffened. 

A slight twitch in his arm told you it hadn't gone unnoticed. Your limbs, which you had curled up against your chest, found their way around his neck and, slowly, you relaxed again. Everything would be just fine. You would be able to process everything when you got home. For now, you could only be glad that he had managed to make it in time. 

All this happened as he dispatched of the few remaining demons which had been trying to tear you to pieces moments ago. 

Even before the last one had turned into a pile of ashes, you turned to see Atlas making its way towards the two of you. The arm that still held you in place tightened its hold on you as the demon moved closer.

While the distance between Atlas and you diminished, the pitiable state of the demon became obvious and you winced at the sight of the gash you had left behind. It had stopped bleeding, but it looked as though it could open up again the very moment Atlas made even the slightest wrong move. 

"So I guess your boyfriend found you after all," Atlas said, stopping its advance and instead opting not to come any closer. 

Despite the space that still remained between the two parties, in the blink of an eye you came face to face with the demon. This time, however, you feared nothing, though you did feel a little sick because of the sudden jump. 

Dante pressed his lips into a thin line before he lifted his sword and, in one swift motion, separated the demon's head from its neck. It fell to the ground with a dull _thump_ , a sound that seemed so finalising that had you been in a better shape, you might have had some semblance of feeling that this was a job well done. 

Without waiting around any longer, he turned and made his way back to where he came from. With what little energy you had left, you turned to look behind you and watched as the form of what had become your nightmare began to crumble. Even before it had completely disappeared, Dante turned a corner and a wall blocked your sight. 

Relief filled you, relief at the fact that this whole ordeal was now over, but at the same time you felt conflicted. If Dante had been able to kill Atlas just like that, then why had he waited this long to do so? 

You already knew the answer to that, though.

Because of you. Because he hadn't wanted you to see him like this. 

A deep rumbling noise could be heard all of a sudden, but Dante didn't wait around to find out where it came from. Not long after, everything began to shake; rocks and dust fell down here and there, narrowly missing you. Apparently with its host dead, this floating platform of sorts was destined to fall apart, and the two of you would disappear along with it. 

You squeezed your functioning arm tighter around Dante's neck, even as you could see the flicker in his appearance. Whatever this form of his was, he couldn't keep it up much longer. 

As he made his way through the trembling building, he never once removed his arm from around you, instead lifting his hand with his sword in an attempt to shield you from the falling debris. He stopped trying to keep his speed accustomed to you and practically flew down the hall instead.

Just as you could hear the walls behind you cave in, could feel the floor disappear beneath you, a bright light blinded you, forcing you to shield your eye from what appeared to be the normal sky. Coughing at the dust which had managed to attach itself to you, you felt as though the world had begun to rotate twice as fast.

"L-lemme go..." you mumbled, and almost fell back when Dante did as you asked. Once released, you sank to your knees and pressed your hand into the dirt beneath. 

Somewhere in the distance you could hear two voices talking. To each other or to you, you didn't know. In the centre of your swirling surroundings, a blade of grass stuck out of the earth in which you had dug your nails, and the sudden realisation of _everything_ came crashing down. Tears welled up in your eye and dripped down to the ground, darkening patches of soil. The voices became more urgent but you ignored them. 

Pain shot up your otherwise numb arm and you choked back a sob at the sudden burn. Hands touched you, turned you so that your back hit the ground and blue surrounded you. 

And then all went black.


	31. Epilogue - Horizons

A yell fills the crisp night air, followed by the sound of hastily taken footsteps. The person to whom they belong runs across the street, not bothering to look for any oncoming traffic, before diving into a nearby road. More than once they neglect to lift their feet properly, resulting in several stumbles. They curse as their jeans tear at their knees, blood from scraping over the stones staining the cloth. 

Still, they will not give up. They get up again and flee from the invisible, from the darkness. From the shadows that keep chasing them. Only the sound of bins clattering to the ground indicates the fact that something is actually following them, but they do not stop to find out what it could actually be. 

Panting, they turn a few corners and slump against a wall in order to catch their breath. After a few moments they stop to hold it again so that they can listen and find out whether their pursuer still chases after them. 

All remains quiet and only the wind blows softly, the last leaves on the trees rustling in the distance. Here and there a car passes nearby. Other than that, they can hear nothing.

They heave a sigh of relief before getting up and inching to the opening of the alley so that they can check if the coast is clear. But even before they can reach the corner, something crashes into them and they fly back until they hit a wall, the pressure against their throat preventing them from screaming. All that comes out is a croak, the sound filled with panic and fear. 

It is then that they see what is in front of them, and they can only describe it as a monster. It snarls at them, its face inching closer to their face, its mouth opening to reveal a pair of inhumanly sharp teeth.

They are going to die. They are going to die today. They still have so much to do with their lives. 

Before the distance between their face and that of this monstrosity can disappear, gunshots ring out and echo in the narrow alley, followed by more footsteps coming closer.

"Hey, why didn't you wait for me?! I could've handled it just fine," a voice calls out as the monster's ugly face disappears. Its captor, gasping for air, slides to the ground, head held in their hands. 

"Because you were too fucking slow," another pipes up. "If I had waited for you, we would've been too late."

The person sitting on the ground at the other end of the alley stares at the woman with the black eyepatch and the man with the red trench coat. 

You holster your gun - a new one since you had lost everything else - and, without glancing at your partner, make your way to them. 

"It ain't my fault _somebody_ had to clean up the shop and misplace my jacket," Dante replies as he follows you with his hands in his pocket.

"You could've just gone out without it. It's not like you'd actually get cold or anything."

"Are you kidding me?! I can't be seen outside like that! Only you get to see me in such a state of undress."

"James sees you without it all the time."

"That's different. That doesn't count, and you know it."

Ignoring Dante, you kneel before the most likely traumatised victim who is still shielding their face. "You all right?"

The person's shaking lessens and they look up through their fingers, relief obvious in their gaze as they realise that they are no longer in danger. They nod their head before you reach out to give them an awkward pat on their shoulder, mindful not to get any closer to them. Person bubble and all that. 

"Should I call James? He's gonna like another one. It's not like he does any actual work at the office," Dante offers, whipping out his phone even before you can answer.

"You do know he's going to have his revenge when he becomes chief, right?"

" _If_ he becomes chief," Dante mutters to himself as he starts to dial the number. 

While he busies himself with calling James, you turn to face this poor person. No longer close to hysteria, they stare at the ground, most likely recalculating everything they have ever known in their life. You feel pity for them, knowing exactly what it is like to be in this position. 

You look back at Dante, who now stands with his back to you. Though it all happened years ago, some days you still think back to the few flashes you can remember of what happened after you became unconscious that particular day. 

Dante had been there, and so had James. You vaguely remember hearing James confront Dante after witnessing his peculiar form, which you later learned to be what he called his 'Devil Trigger'. Then the scenery changes to a vividly blue sky, a strange contrast to the red one you had seen. The blue turns into white, then goes back to blue, but a different kind than before. 

The memories, and not just these, come to you in your dreams, or on particularly slow days during the winter, most often when it has been snowing. Sometimes, when you push yourself too far, the scar on your arm flares with pain. Sometimes, you believe a dark figure looms over you, the hairs on your neck stand on end and you enter a state called 'hypervigilance'.

Posttraumatic stress disorder, your psychiatrist told you. It started with sudden anger outbursts in which more often than not you lashed out at Dante - both physically and emotionally. He understood, knew you needed time to process it all and gave you all the time he thought you needed and then some. 

When your sister - who had survived the whole ordeal though will be stuck in a wheelchair for the rest of her life - fell victim to one of your outbursts, you realised that something had to be done. Dante dragged you along to some friend of his, with whom you, after much coaxing, talked about everything that had happened. You told him about the flashbacks and the memories, the bouts of anger. When you began to avoid Dante and anything else that had to do with demons, he laid down the cold, harsh truth: PTSD. 

Knowing the cause for your behaviour did not cure you of it, however, and it took you many months before you could look Dante in the eye and not be reminded of _that_ side of him. Before you could look him in the eye and instead of fear, feel relief, wonder and confusion at the fact that he hadn't run off when he had the chance and the perfect reason to do so. Whatever doubts you had had prior to that moment, they all vanished when you realised that this man would never let you down, no matter what happened. 

Some symptoms will never disappear, but now you know that, with him by your side, it doesn't matter anyway. 

"Y'know, I appreciate the staring and all, but it's starting to get really unsettling now." 

You blink a few times before turning your head back to the victim, who is now examining you in an almost curious fashion, in order to hide the smile on your face. "Yeah, well, your whole appearance is quite unsettling so let's call it even."

Dante laughs at your words and, holding his hand out for you to take, says, "Come, the kid said if we take longer than five minutes then he's going back to bed. And you know how he needs his beauty sleep."

You take his hand and step out of the way to let him help the victim off the ground. 

"You desperately need yours too but that never stops you from bothering me all night."

"Oh, shush. I've never heard you complain."

"I am right now."

"Huh, what did you say? I didn't quite catch that."

"Yes, let's conveniently forget you have super hearing."

"Love you too~!"

_From her bed you'll hear her say:  
"There are horizons,   
Floating in my brain."  
From her world you'll feel her say:  
"Tell me your story,  
I don't want to feel my pain."  
So I said:  
"Build off of the record off of my head."_


End file.
